UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS' ANGELES 


ROBERT  ERNEST  COWAN 


illU 


lpTHEF(  p  o  E  M 


RY 


C.  L.  WOODS 


STOCKTON : 

D.    H.     BERD1XE,    F,OOK    AND    JOH    PRINTER. 
I873- 


filtered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  jr:ar  1873,  by 

C.    L.    W  O  O  D  S  , 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


PS 
335-P 


S    TO    MY    MOTHER 


PREFACE. 


The  incident  related  in  the  closing  of  the  Poem, 
KAW-WAU-NITA,  was  told  me  in  the  month  of  May, 
1859,  by  C.  J.  Goss,  Esq.,  in  company  with  whom 
I  made  a  trip  from  Fond  du  Lac,  Wisconsin,  to 
Boulder  City,  Colorado,  in  the  season  just  men- 
tioned. We  had  camped  one  night  on  the  banks 
of  a  small  stream,  on  the  very  ground,  as  I  was 
informed,  where  the  closing  scene  of  the  Poem  was 
enacted,  and  from  which  the  stream  took  the  name 
of  RAWHIDE  CREEK.  It  was  while  there  that  Mr. 
Goss  gare  me  the  facts  of  the  case,  which  facts  are 
known  to  many  of  those  who  crossed  the  Plains  in 
the  early  golden  days  of  California. 

It  may  be  considered  an  over-drawn  picture, 
but  a  reality  is  a  reality;  and,  though  a  fabric 
of  romance  may  be  woven  around  it,  still  the 
romance  can  never  do  away  with  a  fact.  It  may  be 
said,  by  some,  that  a  proper  regard  for  the  feelings 


of  others  should  have  prevented  the  publication  of 
KAW-WAU-NITA,  but  my  reply  is  this  :  In  offering 
you  this  Poem,  I  simply  offer  you  a  matter  of  fact, 
and  for  facts  I  have  no  apologies  to  make  to  any 
one.  The  story  is  of  that  order  which  appears  to 
the  best  advantage  when  presented  in  as  plain  a 
manner  as  possible,  and,  taking  this  view  of  it,  I 
have  avoided  the  use  of  Indian  terms  beyond  what 
are  current  all  over  the  world  ;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  I  have  not  allowed  my  characters  to  lose  their 
customs  or  their  leading  characteristics. 

The  short  poems  have  been  written  at  different 
times  and  under  various  circumstances.  I  like  most 
of  them  for  the  reason  that  each  has  its  own  little 
world  in  the  past ;  and  for  them  I  ask  the  kind  for- 
bearance and  generous  toleration  of  those  who  may 

honor  them  by  perusal. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


There  came  to  my  wigwam  a  weary  child, 

Hungry,  and  feeble,  and  eo Id — 

ll'hcn  the  winter  winds  told 
Their  bitterest  tale  in  a  fierce,  fierce  gale, 
To  the  clouds,  which  in  terror  were  flying  wild. 

He  begged  me  to  shelter  his  shrinking  form 

From  the  keen  and  pitiless  blast  j 

And  the  snow  Jiving  fast — 
A  nd for  fire  and  food,  to  warm  the  blood 
That  was  chilled  in  his  reins  by  the  howling  storm. 

I  sheltered  him,  wanned  him,  nursed  him  with  care, 

And  with  him  I  shared  my  bed, 

And  gave  him  to  cat  of  mv  bread ; 
And  he  dwelt  with  me  long,  and  grew  hale  and  strong, 
And  his  face,  and  his  form ,  and  his  words  were  fair. 

He  has  grown,  ''fill  a  giant  now  he  stands  ; 
]]'liile  I  hare  feeble  grown — 
jl/Y  trigiram  he  claims  as  his  own  ; 
He  has  taken  my  home,  and  alone  I  must  roam 
Into  barren  and  desolate  unknown  lands. 


KAW-WAU-NITA. 


The  winter  winds  had  ceased  to  blow, 

And  now  no  longer  white  with  snow, 

The  ground  was  fast  becoming  green; 

And  here  and  there,  there  might  be  seen 

On  grassy  knoll,  a  violet  blue, 

Smiling  through  weight  of  sparkling  dew, 

As  eye  of  azure  might  appear 

When  dimmed  by  love's,  or  sorrow's  tear. 

The  forest  trees  no  longer  bare 

Of  foliage,  tossed  their  limbs  in  air; 

But  each  one  seemed  to  do  its  best 

To  rival  each  and  all  the  rest, 

In  giving  heartsome  welcoming 

To  lovely,  bashful,  blushing  Spring, 

Who  never  fails  with  winning  wile 

To  make  e'en  stern  old  Winter  smile; 

And  when  the  fierce  old  king  is  gone, 

Beckons  her  sister  Summer  on. 


10  KA  W-WAU-NITA, 

We  crossed  the  river,  dark  and  rough, 
That  flows  in  sight  of  Council  Bluff; 
And  took  our  way  along  the  flat, 
Far-reaching  valley  of  the  Platte, 
Whose  waters  first  begin  their  flow 
From  out  the  everlasting  snow, 
And  coursing  through  the  Valley  wide, 
Join  with  the  madly  rushing  tide 
Of  the  Missouri — and  in  glee, 
Flow  on  and  mingle  with  the  sea. 

Our  little  party  camped  that  night 

Where  Elkhorn  Branch  flows  clear  and  bright 

And  on  the  morrow  traced  our  way 

From  morning  until  evening  grey; 

When,  weary  and  in  want  of  rest, 

And  day  was  dying  in  the  west, 

We  came  to  where,  in  former  days, 

A  man  of  rude  and  wicked  ways 

Was  sentenced  by  an  Indian  court 

To  suffer  for  his  wanton  sport. 

For  thus  I've  heard  the  story  told  : 
When  California's  wealth  of  gold 


M 


Was  first  discovered,  and  there  came 
Men  of  each  nation,  race  and  name, 
Two  brothers  started  'mong  the  rest 
To  seek  the  tar-famed,  golden  West. 

The  one  was  filled  with  good  and  truth, 

Had  prayed  from  early  in  his  youth, 

Was  social,  jolly,  kind  and  free  ; 

Was  loved  by  all  his  company. 

Were  any  of  his  comrades  sick, 

Who  was  so  thoughtful,  who  so  quick 

With  gentle  touch,  and  cheering  word 

Of  counsel,  such  as  none  afford 

But  those  whose  feet  the  path  have  trod, 

Which  leads  to  glory  and  to  God. 

And  many  a  heart-felt,  anxious  prayer 

Had  he  sent  up  on  midnight  air, 

Invoking  mercies  from  above 

Upon  the  brother  of  his  love  ; 

That  brother,  who  so  oft  had  given 

Offense,  and  sin,  against  high  Heaven — 

Whose  soul  was  black  with  many  a  stain, 

Whose  lips  took  God's  great  name  in  vain  ; 

One  might  e'en  wonder  how  'tcould  be 


12  K  A  \V  -  W  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  . 

His  brother  clung  to  such  as  he. 

Yet  such  the  way  that  Nature  runs. 

They  were  the  same  fond  mother's  sons — 

That  mother,  o'er  whose  grave  they'd  seen 

The  third  year's  grass  grow  fresh  and  green. 

And  strange  to  say,  the  reckless  one 

Had  been  the  mother's  best  loved  son, 

And  e're  her  eyes  were  closed  in  sleep, 

She  bade  the  elder  brother  keep 

Unceasing  watch  and  ward  upon 

The  future  of  her  younger  one. 

And  well  and  faithfully  he'd  kept 

The  charge  ;  for  e'en  when  others  slept, 

That  brother  sent  his  prayers  above, 

To  God,  the  glorious  King  of  Love, 

For  him  whose  every  act  was  sin, 

Whose  soul  seemed  daily  drinking  in 

The  principles  of  vice  and  crime, 

Who  spent  each  hour  of  his  time 

In  service  of  the  powers  that  dwell 

And  hold  dominion  over  hell. 

This  reckless  man,  in  language  loud, 
In  presence  of  a  num'rous  crowd 


K  A  \V  -  \V  A  I'  -  \  IT  A  .  13 

Assembled  there  to  say  farewell, 

And  hopes  of  future  joys  to  tell, 

Declared  he'd  send  a  bullet  through 

The  very  first  that  met  his  view 

Of  the  red  race  ;   be  what  it  might, 

Chief,  armed  and  painted  for  the  fight, 

Or  young,  or  old,  or  lovely  squaw — 

He  vowed  to  slay  the  first  he  saw  ; 

And  thus  would  teach,  with  murderous  hand, 

The  red  man  to  respect  his  band. 

I  will  not  stay,  but  leave  them  here, 
Where  fell  full  many  a  bitter  tear, 
Where  fathers  held  their  children  fast 
In  fond  embrace,  perhaps  the  last. 
All  !  who  can  tell,  or  who  can  guess, 
If  e'er  again  will  fondly  press 
Those  loving  little  lips  to  ours  ? 
Who  knows  if  in  the  coming  hours 
Will  ever  gladly  haste  to  meet 
Our  coming  steps,  those  little  feet, 
Whose  pattering  sounds  have  given  cheer 
To  every  loving  parent's  ear? 


14  K  A  w  -  w  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  - 

We  will  not  tarry,  but  we'll  go 

Beyond  the  broad  Missouri's  flow  ; 

And  take  a  peep,  as  if  by  chance, 

At  Indian  camp,  where  hunting  dance 

Is  going  forward  at  its  height. 

It  was  a  strange,  fantastic  sight, 

Where  painted  braves,  with  whoop  and  shout, 

Danced  with  the  beaded  squaws  about  ; 

For  with  the  morrow's  rising  sun, 

Each  warrior,  each  and  every  one, 

The  chief  had  ordered  all  to  go 

To  hunt  the  elk  and  buffalo, 

And  this  last  night,  they,  one  and  all, 

Assembled  at  the  hunting  ball. 

Apart  from  all,  there  sat  a  pair 

You  scarcely  would  have  looked  for  there. 

A  youth,  with  forehead  broad  and  high, 

A  stately  carriage,  piercing  eye; 

His  agile  limbs  'twere  easy  told, 

Were  cast  in  noblest  Indian  mould. 

Nor  could  he  be  admired  less, 

Because  of  buckskin  hunting  dress  : 


KAW-WAU-NITA. 

For  he  was  all,  both  form  and  face, 
That's  noblest,  manliest  in  his  race. 

The  other  \vas  an  Indian  girl, 
Whose  shoulders  hid  in  many  a  curl 
Of  silken  hair  whose  raven  dye 
Was  equalled  only  by  her  eye, 
Whose  midnight  darkness  shot  a  dart 
Through  many  a  gallant  warrior's  heart  ; 
These  two,  apart  from  all,  sat  there — 
Indians,  but  still  a  noble  pair. 

They  had  been  talking,  and  'twould  seem 
The  girl  had  told  the  chief  a  dream. 
With  soft  caress,  he  fondly  said  : 
*'  'Tis  but  a  foolish  woman's  head 
That's  thus  annoyed  by  visions  vain 
Which  ne'er  may  trouble  you  again. 
You  must  not,  Kau -Wau-Nita,  dear, 
Think  you  have  any  cause  to  fear  ; 
We  only  go  for  one  short  moon — 
Our  mission  peaceful,  and  full  soon 
Wi-  will  return,  our  labors  o'er, 
To  seek  our  friends  and  home  once  more. 


1 6  K.  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  X  I  T  A  . 

Then  will  we  pass  the  live-!ong  day 

In  perfect  happiness  away. 

I'll  tell  you  of  exciting  race, 

Of  who  rode  foremost  in  the  chase  ; 

Each  incident  of  all  the  scout 

I'll  tell  you  faithfully  about  ; 

And  you  shall  tell  me  how  each  day 

You've  passed  while  I  have  been  away. 

And  then,  perhaps,  but  'tis  too  soon, 

I  will  be  home  at  least  a  moon 

Before  that  other  joy  shall  come 

To  glad  our  hearts  and  cheer  our  home." 

"  Yes,  Yes,"  she  said,  "  but  while  I  think 
Of  that  sweet  draught  we  hope  to  drink, 
Some  darkening  shadow  comes  o'er  me, 
Nor  can  I  tell  why  this  should  be, 
Nor  am  I  ever  from  it  free." 

The  Indian  tried,  with  soft  caress, 

To  dissipate  the  squaw's  distress  ; 

But,  though  she  smiled  and  dried  her  tears, 

Still  had  she  some  instinctive  fears  : 

Nor  could  she  tell,  as  she  had  said, 

What  cause  she  had  for  fear  or  dread. 


KA\V  -  \VA  I'  -N  IT  A  .  17 

W  lien  the  red  glow  in  eastern  skies 
Told  that  the  sun  was  soon  to  rise, 
The  Fearless  Eagle  fondly  pressed 
His  Kaw-Wau-Nita  to  his  breast  ; 
And  bidding  her  be  brave  and  strong, 
His  hunting  horn  wound  shrill  and  long, 
Whose  echos  answering  came  again 
From  hills  that  skirt  the  lovely  plain, 
And  vaulted  on  his  saddled  steed, 
A  horse  of  fiery  Mustang  breed, 
Whose  dam,  some  seven  years  ago, 
While  flying  from  pursuing  foe, 
In  jumping  o'er  a  rocky  steep 
A  limb  had  broken  in  the  leap, 
Was  left  behind  the  flying  band, 
And  caught  by  Fearless  Ragle's  hand. 

No  wonder   when  the  horn  was  wound 
This  courser,  glad  to  hear  the  sound. 
Gave  out  a  wild  and  joyous  shout, 
And  pranced  in  ecstacy  about  ; 
For  well  he  knew  that  signal  horn, 
Hlown  thus  at  breaking  of  the  morn 
Foretold  full  many  a  chase  and  hunt. 
Where  he  was  ever  in  the  front. 


l8  KAW- WAU-NITA  , 

And  Kaw-Wau-Nita  still  remained, 
And  still  her  anxious  vision  strained 
To  catch  her  gallant  lover,  till, 
Turning  the  angle  of  a  hill, 
The  Eagle  and  his  followers  true 
Were  lost  to  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  view. 

Turning  aback,  her  steps  she  bent 
Toward  her  wigwam  ;   'twas  a  tent 
Of  wide  proportions-  pictured  o'er 
With  work  of  art  ;  both  wall  and  door 
Showed  many  a  wild  and  lovely  sight 
Wrought  out  in  colors  clear  and  bright. 
The  red  deer  drinking  from  a  rill 
That  danced  in  freedom  down  the  hill  : 
Here  'neath  a  tree,  on  Summer's  day, 
A  group  of  children  were  at  play. 
Faithfully  had  the  artist  drawn 
The  portraits  of  a  child  and  fawn — 
The  two  had  been  engaged  in  play 
And,  overcome  by  heat  of  day, 
They  sank  to  rest  upon  the  green  ; 
A  sweeter  sight  was  never  seen. 
The  child  was  lying  on  the  ground, 


K  A  \\      \V  A  r-MTA.  \r. 

One  chubby  arm  was  passed  around 

The  fawn's  soft  neck,  whose  head  found  rest 

Upon  the  sleeping  baby's  breast. 

The  picture  brought  a  happy  smile 

To  Kaw-Wau-Xita's  eye  the  while. 

The  days  went  creeping  slowly  on, 
And  now  the  moon  was  nearly  gone  •; 
And  Kaw-Wau-Nita,  night  and  morn, 
Waited  to  hear  the  signal  horn — 
Listen'd  to  catch  the  first  shrill  note 
That  from  the  Eagle's  horn  should  float 
Announcing  that   from  o'er  the  plain> 
He  brought  his  followers  again. 

She  waited  now  all  full  of  joy, 
For  on  her  breast  a  little  boy 
Who'd  come,  within  the  week,  to  cheef 
And  banish  Kaw-Wau-Ntta's  fear, 
Was  sweetly  sleeping  ;  she  could  trace 
His  father's  semblance  in  his  face, 
And  o'er  his  infant  slumbers  she 
>ongs  of  sweetest  melody. 

The  morning  air  was  clear  and  bright  } 
The  sun,  with  glorious  golden  light, 


20  K  A  W-WA  U-  N  IT  A  , 

His  life-bestowing  glances  threw 
Along  the  valley,  bright  with  dew, 
Where  pendant  crystals  flashed  and  gleamed 
Until  the  whole  might  well  have  seemed 
A  bed  of  gems,  whose  sparkling  eyes 
Gave  e'en  the  god  of  day  surprise. 

Walking  along,  amid  these  charm?, 
Bearing  the  baby  in  her  arms, 
Fond  Kaw-Wau-Nita,  in  her  heart, 
Thanked  the  Great  Spirit  for  her  part 
Of  the  rich  beauties  which  His  hand 
Had  scattered  broad-cast  o'er  the  land. 

She  wandered  on,  nor  paused  for  aught ; 
Custom  her  feet  the  way  had  taught — 
For  many  a  time,  in  days  gone  by 
(Lovers  can  tell  the  reason  why,) 
She'd  tripped,  though  oft  at  later  hour, 
Gathering  here  and  there  a  flower, 
Along  the  self-same  path  which  she 
Was  walking  now  so  pensively  : 

Reaching  at  last  a  point,  she  stood 
In  densest  portion  of  the  wood, 


K.  A  U  -  \V  A  U  -  N"  1  '['  A  . 

And  smiled  to  think  how  oft  her  feet 

Did  willingly  the  task  repeat 

Of  threading  through  the  grass  and  flowers — 

Bright  e'en  as  now  with  clews  and  showers — 

To  this  same  quiet  trysting  place 

To  meet  her  lover,  o'er  whose  face, 

At  sight  of  her,  would  spread  a  glow 

Which  lovers,  only  lovers  know. 

She  sought  the  old  familiar  seat 

Where  first  she  heard  the  words — more  sweet 

Than  other  words  had  ever  proved — 

The  words  that  told  her  she  was  loved. 

She  sat  her  down  awhile  to  rest, 

Her  baby  sleeping  on  her  breast  ; 

Her  happiness  would  be  complete 

When  she  her  honored  chief  should  meet, 

Which  must  be  soon.     "  Ah!  whence  that  fear  ? 

Why  comes  it  now  to  haunt  me  here  ? 

I  have  not  known  it  since  the  morn 

My  darling  one,  my  boy  was  born. 

O  !  thou  Great  Spirit,"  hist  !  a  shot, 

A  quick,  sharp  pain,  as  fire  hot. 

A  bull  has  pierced  the  child  she  pressed, 


And  sunk  into  the  mother's  breast. 
She  s.mk  in  death  without  a  moan, 
Their  spirits  in  a  breath  had  flown. 

It  happened  but  the  night  before, 
A  train  had  crossed  the  river  o'er, 
And  camped  so  near  the  Elk-horn  stream, 
That  they  could  reach  it  with  their  team. 
This  very  day,  before  the  sun 
Had  more  than  half  his  journey  done  ; 
Where  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees 
They'd  lunch  and  give  their  cattle  ease. 
And  as  their  train  winds  slow  along, 
With  joke  and  laugh  and  mirthful  song, 
We'll  journey  with  them  on  their  way, 
And  hear  what  they  may  have  to  say. 

The  first  who  spoke  on  general  theme, 
Had  just  resigned  his  whip  and  team  ; 
Swinging  his  gun,  his  shoulder  o'er, 
Was  starting  forward  to  explore. 

Said  he,  "  I'll  hasten  on  and  see, 
What  in  the  shape  of  game  may  be 


RAW-WAU-K1TA.  23 

In  yonder  wood  ;   the  task  be  mine- 
To  furnish  meat  on  which  to  dine." 

A  comrade  spoke  with  taunting  word, 
So  loud  that  all  his  fellows  heard, 
And  said,  "  You  must  remember,  Bill, 
Your  promise  ere  we  left  the  Hill  ; 
You  swore  to  shoot  the  first  you'd  see 
Of  untamed  Aboriginee. 
And  knowing  you  to  be  a  man 
Who'll  keep  your  word,  if  so  you  can  ; 
We'll  look,  and  we'll  expect  that  you 
Will  bring,  as  evidence  most  true, 
An  Indian's  scalp,  perhaps  a  head, 
To  prove  you've  left  an  Indian  dead. 
Not  that  we'd  doubt  your  word,  not  so  ; 
But  'twould  be  better  known,  you  know." 

These  words  were  in  a  bant' ring  tone, 
That  urged  the  reckless  mad-man  on 
To  that  foul  sin,  which,  gracious  heaven, 
I  doubt  if  it  can  be  forgiven. 

He  muttered  something  scarcely  heard. 
And  said  that  he  would  keep  his  word  : 


24  KAW-  \VAU-  N  t  T  A  . 

Started  ahead  and  left  the  train 
To  wind  its  way  across  the  plain. 

He  reached  the  wood,  but  scarce  had  been 
Three  minutes  'neath  its  foliage  green 
Until,  within  short  range,  he  saw, 
As  we  have  seen  her  too,  a  squaw  : 
He  looked  with  furtive  glance  around, 
Saw  nothing  moving,  heard  no  sound  ; 
He  raised  his  rifle,  scann'd  the  sight, 
The  deadly  bullet  took  its  flight, 
And  e're  the  smoke  had  upward  curled 
Two  souls  had  sought  the  other  world — 
Where  pain  and  grief  are  never  found — 
They'd  reached  the  happy  hunting  ground. 

His  comrades  gathered  'round  to  see 

The  murdered  pair  beneath  the  tree  ; 

His  brother's  anguish  at  the  sight 

Was  pititul  to  witness,  quite  ; 

And  e'en  the  murderer's  heart  grew  sore, 

And  more  than  once  he  muttered  o'er 

The  bitterest  curses  on  the  one 

Who  taunted,  pressed,  and  urged  him  on 


KAW-  WA  T-  XIT  A  .  25 

To  do  this  deed,  which  now,  full-well, 
He  felt  would  sink  his  soul  to  hell. 
They  did  not  halt,  they  did  not  feed 
Their  teams,  but  with  redoubled  speed 
They  started  forward,  nor  did  rest 
Until  the  sun  had  reached  the  west, 
When  wearied  out  they  loosed  their  team 
To  rest  upon  this  self-same  stream. 

When  Fearless  Eagle  wound  his  horn, 
Upon  that  bright  and  lovely  morn, 
He  hoped  before  the  evening  tide 
To  reach  his  home  and  meet  his  bride  ; 
And  mounting  once  again  his  steed 
Struck  forward  at  tremendous  speed  ; 
Still  followed  as  he  dashed  along 
P.y  his  good  braves,  two  hundred  strong. 

They  reached  a  little  stream,  whose  run 
Marked  half  their  homeward  journey  done. 
And  halting  here  their  girths  untied, 
And  loitering  by  the  brooklet's  side, 
Allowed  an  hour  or  so  to  pass 
Krewhile  their  horses  cropped  the  grass. 


26  KAW-  WAV- NIT  A  . 

Then  saddling  up,  once  more  they  move 
Towards  the  home  and  friends  they  love. 

The  sun  within  an  hour  would  set, 

And  all  was  bright  and  lovely  yet. 

When  coming  home  another  way 

Than  that  he  traversed  on  the  day 

He  started  forth,  he  reached  a  mound 

Of  gently  elevated  ground  ; 

And  here  he  paused,  for,  from  this  height,. 

A  scene  of  beauty  met  his  sight 

Which  artist  may  repeat  again, 

But  so  far  has  been  tried  in  vain. 

Beneath  him  lay  the  valley  wide 
Through  which  the  Platte's  impatient  tide 
Coursed  onward  with  unceasing  run, 
It's  wavelets  sparkling  in  the  sun, 
And  flashing,  glittering,  'till  'twould  seem 
The  gorgeous  creature  of  a  dream. 
A  mile  from  where  his  courser  stood, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  wood 
A  hundred  wigwams  could  be  seen  ; 
While  scattered  o'er  the  valley  green 
Were  horses  browsing,  here  and  there 


K  v  \V  -  W  A  U  -  X  IT  A  .  27 

A  quartette,  trio,  or  a  pair, 
Engaged  in  sports  as  horses  can 
When  free  from  the  restraint  of  man  ; 
Now  in  a  contest  far  and  fleet, 
.\o\v  standing  on  their  hindmost  feet  ; 
Parrying  now  each  other's  blows, 
And  sinking  now  where  they  arose, 
With  ears  laid  back  they  try  again 
Their  speed  across  the  level  plain. 

The  eyes  of  Fearless  Eagle  move 
O'er  all,  with  mingled  pride  and  love, 
For  though  the  daring  chief  might  roam, 
Still,  still  was  this  his  cherished  home. 
Here  did  he  open  first  his  eyes 
To  verdant  earth  and  azure  skies  ; 
Here  slept  his  sires  beside  the  stream  ; 
Here  first  he  dreampt  affection's  dream. 
And,  as  he  thought  of  her  he  loved, 
His  hand  instinctively  he  moved 
To  where  his  hunting  horn  was  strung, 
And  loosely  from  his  shoulder  hung, 
And  winding  forth  a  cheerful  strain 
Dashed  down  across  the  level  plain. 


2  K  A  \V  -  W  A  U  -  X  I  T  A  . 

The  note  of  Eagle's  hunting  horn 
Was  scarcely  from  the  bugle  borne, 
When  cheerful  voices  back  did  float 
In  answer  to  the  signal  note. 

The  young  came  first,  on  flying  feet 

Their  home-returning  friends  to  meet  ; 

The  squaws  more  slowly  came,  and  still 

Behind,  but  not  from  lack  of  will, 

The  aged  and  decrepid  came, 

With  weight  of  years  grown  grey  and  lame- 

Their  wrinkled  faces  flush  with  pride 

As  slowly  to  the  village  ride 

The  Fearless  Eagle  and  his  band, 

With  many  a  smile  and  grip  of  hand. 

The  aged  Indians  thought  of  joys 
When  years  ago,  and  they  were  boys, 
They  knew  when  coming  home  once  more, 
The  danger  and  excitement  o'er, 
Each  one  had  seen  the  happy  day 
When  with  his  comrades,  brave  and  gay, 
He'd  known  the  pride  and  joy  which  now 
Was  stamped  on  every  warrior's  brow  ; 


K  A  \V  -  \\   A  U  -  X  I  1  A  .  29 

Had  heard  the  welcomings  so  dear 
To  every  weary  hunter's  ear. 

Now  as  the  braves  ride  slow  along, 
More  dense  becomes  the  moving  throng  ; 
Until  at  last  they  mingle  all, 
The  young,  the  old,  the  great  and  small, 
The  horses  neigh,  the  dogs  bark  round 
With  strange  commingling  of  sound. 
The  men  with  deep,  strong,  cheerful  notes, 
The  sharp,  shrill  calls  of  younger  throats, 
The  trembling  tones  of  weak  old  age, 
All,  all  unite,  and  all  engage 
To  greet  the  friends  they  love  so  well, 
And  loud  the  song  of  welcome  swell. 

The  Fearless  Eagle  glanced  around, 
As  if  his  eye  had  not  yet  found 
Some  object  which,  of  all  the  rest, 
Should  render  him  more  fully  blessed, 
And  failng,  still,  that  one  to  find, 
He  quickly  left  the  rest  behind, 
And  something  like  a  shade  of  fear 
His  features  swept,  as  he  drew  near 
The  wigwam  ;  where  full  many  a  day 


30  K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  . 

On  lightning  wings  had  sped  away, 
When  by  his  side,  with  word  and  smile, 
His  Kaw-Wau-Nita  sat  the  while. 

Why  should  she  linger  when  the  rest 
With  eager  shoutings  round  him  pressed  ? 
Why  should  she  in  her  wigwam  stay  ? 
Had  she  no  welc'ming  word  to  say  ? 
Her  love,  her  truth  he  did  not  doubt  ; 
But  why,  he  could  not  make  it  out, 
Was  she  behind,  when  he  would  give, 
Right  cheerfully,  his  right  to  live, 
Before  he  would  consent  to  dwell 
Apart  from  her  he  loved  so  well  ? 

He  loved  his  tribe,  yet,  truth  to  say, 

As  Fearless  Eagle  took  his  way 

Toward  the  wigwam  ;   "  Well,"  he  thought, 

"•  To  me  their  greetings  pleasure  brought, 

Yet  will  I  not  the  fact  deny, 

Though  for  it  I  this  moment  die, 

More,  more,  to  me,  than  all  I  heard, 

I  prize  from  her  one  loving  word, 

And  more  to  me,  than  all  the  band, 

Is  the  soft  pressure  of  her  hand." 


K  A  \V  -  \V  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  .  31 

Who  blames  the  Eagle  ?     Sure  such  love 
Was  born  in  heaven — and  far  above 
The  cares  and  trials  that  we  meet — 
Without  it  life  were  incomplete. 

He  reached  and  raised  the  curtained  door, 

Stepped  in  upon  the  matted  floor. 

With  hurried  step  he  crossed,  that  he 

The  room  beyond  might  reach  and  see 

If  Kaw-Wau-Nita  slept,  or  why  ? 

Ah  !  what  is  this  attracts  his  eye  ? 

He  stooped,  and  lifted  from  the  ground, 

A  tiny  moccasin  ;   all  bound 

And  beaded  o'er,  with  such  sweet  skill 

As  woman's  fingers  ever  will 

Display  in  trimming  things  to  greet 

The  coming  of  expected  feet  ; 

It's  fellow,  not  yet  finished,  lay 

Directly  in  the  chieftain's  way  ; 

He  placed  the  two  together,  and 

Lifted  with  anxious,  trembling  hand, 

The  inner  curtain  ;   but  there  came 

No  answer,  though  he  spoke  her  name. 

A  skin  of  Panther's  cub  was  there, 


32  KA  W-  WAU-NITA. 

And,  with  the  coarser  fur  of  Bear, 
The  Eagle  saw  had  formed  a  bed 
Which  yet  held  mark  of  infant  head. 
He  tossed  the  baby  slippers  there, 
And  now  full-well  he  knew  an  heir 
Had  come  to  claim,  as  rightful  one, 
The  robe  of  Indian  Chieftain's  son  ; 
For  only  son  of  chief  may  claim 
The  animal  no  hand  can  tame, 
Significant  that  in  repose 
He  masters  e'en  the  worst  of  foes. 

The  chieftain  now  his  steps  retraced, 
And  sought  among  the  crowd  in  haste 
An  aged  squaw  he  knew,  who'd  guide 
His  steps  to  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  side. 

"  Mother."  in  low  respectful  voice  ; 
"Mother,  I  with  the  rest  rejoice 
To  meet,  once  more,  at  close  of  day, 
After  our  journey  far  away, 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  the  tree 
Which,  from  a  child,  has  sheltered  me  ; 
But  where  is  she  whom,  more  than  life, 
I  fondly  prize  ?     Where  is  my  wife  ? 


KANV  -  \VA  r-  XITA  .  33 

The  old  squaw  started,  and  she  went 
In  haste  to  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  tent  ; 
••  I  thought,"  she  said,  "  to  find  her  here, 
lUit  my  dear  son  has  naught  to  fear  ; 
Rest  here,  the  while  I  go  and  look 
Adown  the  path  that's  by  the  brook  ; 
For  often,  now,  she  likes  to  stray 
Alone  from  all  the  rest  away, 
And  murmur  forth  her  love  and  joy, 
With  none  to  hear  her  but  her  boy. 
For  it  may  be,  my  son,  to  you, 
A  story  wonderful  and  new — 
Vet  graver  truth  was  never  told — 
Your  son  is  near  a  half  moon  old  ; 
But  rest  you  here  ;    I'll  find  the  two, 
And  bring  them  safely  back  to  you." 

"  Hold  !"  cried  the  chief,  "  I  know  the  track  ; 

I'll  go  myself  and  bring  them  back. 

I  am  not  weary  ;   and  'twill  do 

Me  good  to  go  instead  of  you." 

And  acting  on  the  closing  word, 

He  started  forth,  like  flight  of  bird, 

Taking  the  path  he  knew  so  well, 


34  K  AW- \VAU- NIT  A  . 

That  led  adown  the  wooded  dell. 

The  Eagle  followed  down  the  way, 
Just  as  the  glowing  god  of  day 
Was  sinking  down  to  take  his  rest, 
Amid  the  valleys  of  the  west  ; 
But  still  his  light  lay  soft  and  sweet, 
Guiding  aright  the  chieftain's  feet. 

He  reached,  at  last,  a  point  where  stood 
The  mightiest  giants  of  the  wood, 
Then  turning  to  the  right,  he  goes 
More  near  to  where  the  brooklet  flows  ; 
Thinking  he  would  approach  behind, 
The  brushwood  screening  as  a  blind, 
And  soon  he'd  fill  with  glad  surprize 
His  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  wondering  eyes. 

Cautiously  now  he  takes  his  way, 
Not  that  he  fears  to  go  astray, 
But  he  would  be  so  near  the  side 
Of  Kaw-Wau-Nita,  his  sweet  bride, 
So  near,  that  he  a  kiss  might  claim 
Before  his  lips  should  speak  her  name. 


K  .\-\V-\V  A  U-N  IT  A.  35 

Softly  he  crept  towards  the  bower — 
So  soft  that  neither  shrub  nor  flower 
Gave  token  of  his  presence  there — 
And,  through  the  silent  twilight  air 
Creeping  along  above  the  brook, 
T'ie  leaves  he  parts  : — with  one  wild  look, 
()..  _  \\ ..  ivr  bound,  he  kneels  beside 
His  mimic,  ^d  wife,  his  hope  and  pride. 

Ye,  o'er  whose  lives,  in  early  spring, 

Some  fate  did  dark'ning  shadow  fling, 

Whose  hearts  were  broken  years  ago, 

When  fell  the  sad  and  awful  blow 

Which  sealed  the  fountain  of  your  tears — 

Which,  though  'twas  long,  long  weary  years 

Ago  it  fell  ;   yet,  still  the  pain 

Cuts  soul  and  body,  heart  and  brain  : 

Your's  are  the  spirits  that  can  tell 

The  bitter  agonies  that  swell 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  chief — 

Whom  death  alone  can  give  relief. 

Spell-bound  by  grief,  he  could  not  move  ; 
Before  him  lay  in  death  his  love. 


36  K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  . 

He  heaved,  at  last,  one  bitter  groan, 
And  cold,  as  was  the  mossy  stone 
Beside  him,  grew  the  sorrowing  heart 
Which  once  at  word  of  hers  could  start. 

Clasping  his  hands  above  his  head, 
He  gazed  in  silence  on  the  dead, 
And  while  he  gazed  and  waited  still, 
In  neighboring  bush  the  whip-poor-will 
Awoke  the  chieftain  from  the  spell 
Whose  tortures  equal  those  of  hell. 

He  roused  himself,  and  bending  o'er 
That  form  which  now  would  never  more 
Walk  forth  beside  him  ;  nor  whose  voice 
Would  ever  cause  him  to  rejoice, 
He  sought,  nor  sought  in  vain,  the  wound  ; 
The  task  was  short,  the  mark  was  found 
Which  showed  that  in  the  self-same  breath 
Mother  and  child  had  sank  in  death. 

Then  kneeling  there,  he  raised  his  eyes 
To  the  Great  Spirit  in  the  skies  ; 
And  with  a  hand  on  each  and  both, 
He  took  a  sacred,  solemn  oath 


CAW-WAU-NITA.  37 

That  he  would  never  rest  till  he 
O'ertook,  wherever  they  might  be, 
The  murderers  ;  and,  in  sacred  trust, 
Avenge  the  innocent  and  just. 

"  Hear  me,  Great  Spirit  !   hear  my  prayer  ; 
I  here  forego  all  other  care  ; 
Grant  me  but  life  this  work  to  do — 
For  she  was  good,  and  pure,  and  true, 
And  I  could  never  see  her  face 
Were  I  to  leave  this  lonely  place, 
Without  I  punish  first  the  fiend 
Who  brought  her  to  untimely  end. 
Grant  me  but  this,  when  this  I've  done, 
With  tomahawk,  and  bow,  and  gun, 
My  tribe  shall  place  me  in  the  mound, 
And  in  the  happy  hunting  ground 
Where  all  is  bright,  and  glad,  and  fair, 
I'll  meet  my  Kaw-Wau-Nita  there." 

He  started  up  and  wound  his  horn, 
Not  gaily  as  on  hunting  morn, 
But  in  a  sad  and  plaintive  note, 
The  sound  did  through  the  forest  float, 
And  hearing  it,  his  people  fly 

286781 


38  KA  W-WAU-  NI  TA  . 

With  fear  expressed  in  every  eye, 
Nor  halt  they  'till  they  see  their  chief, 
Made  stern  and  cold  by  his  great  grief. 

They  gathered  'round  the  spot,  where  lay 
Poor  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  lifeless  clay — 
The  Eagle  sternly  waved  his  hand, 
"  Silence,"  he  cried,  and  his  command 
Came  like  a  voice  from  out  the  grave  ; 
Like  thunder  echoing  from  a  cave  ; 
Then  followed  silence,  such  as  can 
Bring  fear  to  e'en  the  heart  of  man. 

The  chieftain's  voice  the  silence  broke 
And  to  his  people  thus  he  spoke  : 

"  The  murderer's  hand  has  ta'en  the  life 
Of  these,  your  chieftain's  child  and  wife  ; 
Though  woe  our  hearts  to  ashes  burn, 
Not  now  our  time  to  weep  and  mourn  ; 
Though  deep  and  bitter  be  our  grief, 
Revenge  alone  can  give  relief. 
I  go,  to-night,  and  only  ask 
Such  ones  to  join  me  in  the  task 
As  choose  to  go  without  command  ; 


KAW- W  AU-NITA.  39 

And  here  let  each  one  understand 

Who  goes  with  me  hath  need  of  strength  ; 

I  cannot  tell  the  journey's  length, 

Yet  I'm  determined  ;  naught  can  change 

My  mind.     I  can  alone  avenge 

The  death  of  her,  whose  life  to  me 

Was  more  than  all  the  world  can  be." 

He  called  the  squaws,  and  bade  them  bear 
Their  lifeless  queen,  with  gentle  care, 
Back  to  the  village  with  his  child  ; 
And  here  the  chief,  in  anguish  wild, 
O'ercome  with  sorrow,  bent  and  pressed 
His  cold,  dead  darlings  to  his  breast. 

He  started  up,  as  from  a  dream 

Just  rousing  from  a  sleep  'twould  seem, 

And,  as  he  turned  to  leave  the  place, 

So  stern  and  rigid  was  his  face, 

A  stranger  would  at  once  have  said 

The  grave  had  given  up  its  dead  ; 

And  truly,  too  ;   for  dead  was  he 

To  all  that  might  in  future  be  ; 

He  moved,  'tis  true,  but  only  moved 

T'avenge  the  death  of  those  he  loved. 


40  K  A  W  -  \V  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  . 

But  scarce  a  dozen  steps  he  took 
Along  the  windings  of  the  brook, 
When,  flying  towards  him,  came  his  men 
Fresh  mounted  for  the  road  again. 
An  aged  warrior,  who  had  seen 
Seventy  times  the  woods  grow  green, 
Rode  foremost,  and  by  rein  did  lead 
The  chieftain's  favorite  mustang  steed. 

The  old  man  spoke  :     '•  My  chief,"  he  said. 

"  'Tis  true  our  lovely  queen  is  dead  ; 

Slain  by  a  coward,  who'd  not  dare 

To  meet  a  warrior  free  and  fair  ; 

Who  should  pursue  but  those  who  knoAv 

The  habits  of  the  pale-faced  foe  ? 

For  never  was  an  Indian  known 

To  shoot  a  squaw  unarmed  and  lone  ? 

Some  pale-face  has  this  murder  done, 

And  I  must  go  ;   I  will  be  one 

To  track,  and  double  vengeance  take 

For  poor,  lost  Kaw-Wau-Nita's  sake. 

Forbid  me  not,  my  chief,  I  pray  ; 

I  cannot  here  behind  you  stay — 

I,  who  have  cradled  on  my  breast 

Poor  Kaw-Wau-Nita,  now  at  rest — 


KANV-WAU-NITA. 

1,  who  have  watched  your  boyhood  days — 
I,  who  have  taught  you  in  the  ways 
Of  war  and  peace.     O  !   let  me  now 
Fulfil  my  oft-repeated  vow- 
To  die,  if  need  be,  in  your  stead  ; 
For  it  were  better  I  were  dead, 
Than  see  the  grass  grow  green  above 
The  last  of  all  the  earth  I  love." 

The  Eagle's  heart,  though  bowed  in  grief, 
Gained  from  the  old  man's  words  relief, 
For  as  the  Silver  Fox  had  said, 
In  infancy  his  steps  were  led 
By  the  firm  hand  of  him  who  stood 
Ready  to  shed  his  heart's  best  blood 
To  shield  his  chief  from  thrust  or  blow, 
By  warrior  brave,  or  lurking  foe. 

The  Eagle  spoke  :     "  Brave  Silver  Fox, 

The  threads  of  grey  among  your  locks. 

Your  wrinkled  brow,  your  furrowed  cheek, 

The  near  approach  of  rest  bespeak  ; 

I  would  not  lead  you  out  to  try 

Your  hand  or  heart,  for  though  your  eye 

lie  quick  and  clear,  yet  time  has  told 


42  KA  W-  WAU-NIT  A  . 

It's  story  ;  and  you're  grovring  old. 

Your  chief  needs  now  no  act  to  prove 

Your  truth,  your  fealty  and  love  ; 

Then  rest  you  here  ;  let  younger  heads 

Forego  the  comfort  of  their  beds  ; 

Here  let  the  Silver  Fox  remain 

Until  his  chief  returns  again. 

Give  me  your  blessing."     "  Nay,  my  chief, 

To  stay  will  give  me  no  relief ; 

See  !  I  am  armed  for  deadliest  strife, 

My  bow,  my  whetted  scalping  knife  ; 

This  spear  my  hand  has  often  flung 

A  hundred  yards,  and  from  among 

As  many  warriors  found  the  chief, 

And  brought  my  enemy  to  grief; 

Though  Time  with  lines  has  marked  my  face, 

You'll  find  me  foremost  in  the  chase. 

This  arm,  though  shrunken,  yet  can  throw 

The  deadly  spear,  or  from  this  bow 

Can  send  an  arrow,  swift  as  flies 

The  thunderbolt  along  the  skies." 

A  moisture  dimmed  the  chieftain's  eye  : 

He  did  not  venture  a  reply  ; 

But  stepping  forward  now,  he  gave' 


K  AW  -  w  ,\  r-  N  i  i  \  .  43 

His  hand  a  quick  assenting  waive, 
And  mounting,  silently,  his  horse 
Was  hesitating  on  the  course 
He'd  best  pursue,  for  in  the  night 
No  trail  could  guide  their  steps  aright. 

Close  to  his  side  the  brush  did  part, 

So  close  it  made  his  courser  start, 

And  a  young  Indian  girl,  with  feet 

As  light  as  dew,  came  out  to  meet 

And  tell  the  chieftain  that  a  train 

Of  pale-faces  had  crossed  the  plain 

Since  noon  that  day.     "  They  came,"  she  said, 

"  From  where  the  sun  lifts  up  his  head  ;" 

Pointing  the  while,  with  one  small  hand, 

Away  toward  the  eastern  land  : 

"  They  went  " — she  held  the  other  one 

Towards  the  setting  of  the  sun  ; 

And  darting  like  a  nimble  fawn 

The  little  Indian  maid  was  gone. 

The  Eagle  turned  his  horse's  head, 
No  sign  he  gave,  no  word  he  said  ; 
But  turning  down  the  bank  not  far, 
He  reached  the  sandy  fording  bar, 


44  K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  1  T  A  . 

And  plunging  in  the  shallow  tide, 
He  safely  reached  the  other  side  ; 
And  pressing  closely  came  his  braves, 
Like  mad  impatient  ocean  waves. 

The  night  had  deepened  down,  and  all 

Was  covered  by  its  sable  pall  ; 

And  now  and  then,  with  mournful  cry, 

The  wind  in  gusts  went  sweeping  by. 

The  sky,  which  through  the  day  had  been 

As  clear  as  sky  was  ever  seen, 

Was  mantled  now  with  shadows  deep, 

And  o'er  the  earth  began  to  creep 

A  dampening  mist,  which  hid  from  sight 

Landmarks  which  many  another  night 

Had  guided  Fearless  Eagle  right. 

They  marched  at  random,  for  they  could 
See  neither  mountain,  stream  nor  wood, 
And  guided  only  by  the  sound 
Their  steeds  made  tramping  on  the  ground. 
They  reached  a  place  they  knew,  at  last, 
When  hours  of  wearying  toil  were  passed  ; 
'Twas  by  a  stream  whose  sullen  flow 
Was  fordable  some  miles  below  ; 


K  A  \V  -  W  A  U  -  N  IT  A  . 

Where  now  a  road  winds  through  the  vale, 
Known  as  the  California  trail. 

They  halted  not,  but  turning  then 

The  Fearless  Eagle  and  his  men 

Followed  the  windings  of  the  stream, 

Which  varied  like  a  changing  dream  ; 

Now  smooth  and  straight,  sometimes  they  go 

So  near  the  dark  and  silent  flow 

Their  horses  break  the  bank  before 

They  know  they're  at  the  river  shore  ; 

And  shying,  the  riders  scarce  maintain 

Their  seats  by  clinging  to  the  mane, 

Each  of  his  courser,  'till  again 

They're  safe  upon  the  level  plain  ; 

Now  dancing  merrily  along, 

It's  music  like  a  joyous  song  : 

Now  madly  dashing  on  it's  course, 

Like  wild,  impatient  desert  horse  , 

And  murm'ring  anon,  in  accents  sweet 

As  lovers'  tones  when  lovers  meet. 

The  mist  hung  over  stream  and  land  : 
Though  e'en  the  day  was  close  at  hand, 
And  in  the  East  the  long  grey  streaks 


46  K  A  W  -  \\"  A  U  -  X  I  T  A  . 

Which  well  the  dawn  of  day  bespeaks  ; 
Yet  still  the  darkness  of  the  mist, 
Obscured  from  each  the  other.      "  Hist  !" 
Said  Silver  Fox,   "  I  think  I  hear 
Their  cattle  browsing  very  near." 

'  Twas  the  first  word  that  had  been  spoke 

Sine?  through  the  Elkhorn  stream  they  broke 

And  following  close  the  Silver  Fox, 

They  soon  could  hear  a  grazing  ox. 

Browsing  the  herbage  fresh  and  new, 

And  sweetened  by  the  crystal  dew, 

And  now,  though  dimly,  they  could  hear 

It's  fellow  ruminating  near. 

Thus  they  could  quickly  understand 

That  emigrants  were  near  at  hand, 

Nor  did  they  doubt  but  these  were  they, 

Who  passed  upon  the  previous  day. 

A  whispered  council,  now,  the  chief 
Held  with  the  Silver  Fox,  but  brief, 
And  at  its  close  they  turned  aback, 
Following  now  their  fresh  made  track, 
Until  they  reached  the  place  where  they 
Might  safely  pause  their  plans  to  lay. 


KAW-WAU-NITA.  47 

The  Eagle  spoke,  "I'll  take,"  said  he, 

"  One-half  our  force  to  follow  me, 

And  move  around  the  eastern  way, 

Before  the  coming  light  of  day 

Shall  show  our  movements  to  our  foes, 

Or  cause  them  to  forsake  repose  ; 

The  Silver  Fox  will  here  remain, 

Until  the  stream  beyond  I  gain. 

And  if  the  slumbering  foe  take  fear, 

The  Fox  before  him  shall  appear  ; 

But  better  'twere  that  they  should  sleep, 

And  we  our  distance  from  them  keep, 

Until  the  morning  sun  shall  rise 

And  with  his  glory  fill  the  skies  ; 

For  should  we  rouse  them  now,  'tis  sure, 

\Vhile  darkness  renders  all  obscure, 

The  one  we  seek  might  from  us  fly, 

And  in  his  stead  another  die. 

Mark  you  !   in  any  case,  I  would 

Avoid  the  useless  shedding  blood  ; 

I  only  wish  to  take  the  life 

Of  him  who  slew  my  child  and   wife." 

Xo  more  was  said  :   and  starting  out, 


K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  .  48 

The  chieftain,  by  circuitous  route, 
Reached,  as  the  sun  just  showed  his  head 
In  rising  from  his  dewy  bed, 
A  point  secluded  by  a  mound 
Where  once  had  been  a  burial  ground 
Of  some  old  tribe,  that  years  before 
Had  lived  and  died  upon  the  shore 
Of  this  small  stream,  whose  waters  came 
And  went,  and  ever  will  the  same. 

One  hardy  emigrant  had  kept 

A  guard,  while  all  the  others  slept  : 

Who,  just  as  first  was  seen  the  line 

Of  greyish  light,  the  certain  sign 

That  morn's  approach  was  close  at  hand, 

Had  courted  sleep — who  o'er  his  band 

Had  spread  her  soft  and  soothing  wings  ; 

Whose  shadow  strength  for  labor  brings — 

And  rousing  now  bestir  them  round, 

With  many  an  old  familiar  sound  ; 

Ah  !  who,  that  once  such  scene  has  met, 

Can  breakfast  hour  in  camp  forget. 

Their  breakfast  over,  some  must  go 
To  drive  their  cattle  from  below, 


K  A  \V  -  \V  A  r  -  NT  I  T  A  .  49 

VVhile  others  sought  the  upper  stream 
To  find  the  balance  of  the  team. 

But  now  the  Eagle's  braves  were  seen, 
Slow  riding  o'er  the  prairie  green  ; 
And  Silver  Fox  came  out  in  sight, 
As  if  to  check  expected  flight. 
Each  party  moved  with  steady  tramp 
Directly  towards  the  white  men's  camp. 

The  men  who  first  had  started  out, 
At  sight  of  Indians  turned  about  ; 
And  gathering  quickly,  held  a  sort 
<  )f  war-council,  though  it  was  short, 
For  they  expected  naught  but  strife, 
And  each  determined  that  his  life 
Should  cost  the  foe  full  dearly  ;   for 
They  knew  the  terms  of  Indian  war. 

The  Eagle  halted  only  when 
Two  hundred  yards  himself  and  men 
Stood  distant  from  the  fires  of  those, 
Whom  now  he  felt  to  be  his  foes. 
He  bade  his  followers  here  remain, 
And  riding  slowly  o'er  the  plain 


50  KAW-WAU-NITA. 

Approached  the  wagons  and  the  menr 
As  if  he  came  but  once  again 
To  greet,  in  friendly  way,  as  friend, 
Whose  coming  has  no  other  end. 

The  Eagle  spoke  not,  gave  no  sign 
Until  he  was  within  the  line 
Of  campment  ;  then  in  solemn  tone, 
He  told  them  of  the  murder  done  ; 
Of  how  his  wife  and  little  one, 
Were  gone  forever  from  his  sight — 
That  on  his  life  had  fall'n  a  blight, 
That  time  or  change  could  not  dispel  ; 
Though  years  were  given  him  to  dwell 
'Mid  scenes  of  joy  and  happy  life, 
Still  must  he  mourn  his  murdered  wife, 

"  I  make,"  he  said,  "  No  war  upon 
Your  people,  save  the  guilty  one 
Who,  yesterday,  in  yonder  grove, 
Ruthlessly  murdered  those  I  love  ; 
Him  will  I  have  ;  and  in  such  way, 
He  must  for  this  foul  murder  pay, 
As  in  our  Council  we  shall  see 
The  right  and  proper  way  to  be. 


K  A  >V  -  W  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  .  5  C 

I  come  to  tell  you,  now  and  here, 
The  innocent  have  naught  to  fear 
From  me  or  mine  ;  provided  you 
Do  as  you  would  that  I  should  do, 
If  any  member  of  my  band 
Had,  unprovoked,  with  murderous  hand 
Done  deed  like  this  which  bows  in  grief 
The  tribe  of  which  I  am  the  chief. 
I  come  in  fairness  ;  and  I  would 
Be  fairly  heard  and  understood. 
Give  me  the  murderer  of  my  wife  ; 
And,  though  his  miserable  life 
Can  never  pay  the  debt,  yet  \ve 
Will  bid  you  go  in  peace,  and  he 
Must  answer  with  his  life  to  me." 

The  leader  of  the  whites —  a  man 
Whom,  if  his  face  but  once  you'd  scan, 
You'd  read  the  lines  by  nature  penned, 
Brave  foe,  or  true  unflinching  friend — 
Came  forward,  and  with  ease  could  trace 
Upon  the  Fearless  Eagle's  face 
Deep  lines  of  woe  and  bitter  grief, 
And  thus  he  did  address  the  chief  : 


52  K  A  \V  -  \V  A  U  -  N  1  T  A  . 

"  Brave  chieftain,  truly  we  regret 
That  you  have  this  great  sorrow  met  ; 
But  why  should  you  suppose  that  we 
Connected  with  this  murder  be  ? 
We  came,  'tis  true,  by  yonder  wood  ; 
But  how  it  could  be  understood 
That  we  knew  aught  of  what  you  say 
Transpired  there  on  yesterday, 
Is  more,  brave  chief,  than  I  can  see  ; 
Perhaps  you  can  enlighten  me  ?" 

He  did  not  here  the  charge  deny, 

But  yet  would  have  a  reason  why 

These  people  said  that  of  his  train 

Some  one  had  wrought  the  sin,  whose  stain 

Could  only  be  atoned  for  by 

Yielding  the  victim  up  to  die. 

The  Eagle's  eye  meantime  had  scanned 
Each  member  of  the  pale-faced  band  ; 
And  'twas  not  difficult  to  tell 
When  on  the  guilty  one  it  fell  ; 
For  lettered  page  is  not  more  plain 
Than  was,  upon  his  face,  the  stain 
With  which  Jehovah  branded  Cain. 


K  A  \\  -  \v  A  r-  x  IT  A  .  53 

"See  !"  said  the  chieftain,  "  There's  the  man  : 

Let  him  deny  it,  if  he  can  ; 

I  need  no  other  proof;   'tis  clear  ; 

His  quaking  limbs,  his  look  of  fear 

Bespeak  his  guilt,  in  language  true, 

Of  crime  a  coward's  hand  might  do. 

Him  I  demand  :   but  here  would  say, 

To  give  you  time,  I'll  go  away  ; 

And  think  ye  well  what  you  will  do, 

For  when  I  send  my  braves  to  you; 

Should  you  refuse  the  guilty  one 

You  seal  your  fate.     I've  spoke  ;    I'm  done." 

And  turning,  rode  to  meet  again 

His  braves  who  waited  on  the  plain. 

The  white  men  had  but  one  resource  ; 
And  to  decide  upon  their  course, 
They  now  held  council  ;   and  from  each 
Opinion  gained  in  open  speech. 

The  leader  spoke  :     "  Be  not  deceived, 
These  people  justly  feel  aggrieved  ; 
And  theirs'  is  but  a  just  demand, 
That  the  unfeeling  wretch,  whose  hand 
Thus  murdered  one  they  held  so  high, 


54  KAW-WAU-NITA, 

Should  by  their  laws  and  customs  die  ; 
And  we,  ourselves,  are  blameless  not — 
We  should  have  hung  him  on  the  spot. 
Think  you,  my  friends,  which  one  of  you, 
If  yonder  tribe  were  passing  through 
Our  fields  at  home,  and,  'neath  a  tree, 
One  of  their  number  chanced  to  see 
Your  wife,  your  sister,  or  your  friend 
Reclining  ;   and  for  naught  should  send 
A  deadly  shaft  to  slay  her  there  ; 
Which  of  you  could  such  monster  spare  ; 
Show  me  such  man  ?  I'll  show  you  one 
With  whom  I  am  forever  done. 
'Tis  right  that  we  should  turn  him  o'er; 
What  say  you  all  ?  I've  nothing  more." 

Another  spoke  :   "  For  one,"  said  he  ; 
"  I  with  our  captain  must  agree. 
Had  this  man  met  in  equal  strife, 
Yon  Indian  chief,  and  ta'en  his  life, 
My  life  I'd  lose  upon  this  field 
Before  I  would  my  comrade  yield. 

But  it  was  murder,  vile  and  base — 
A  stain  upon  our  name  and  race — 


KAW- WAU-N1TA.  5$ 

There  is  no  reason  why  we  should 
Protect  him  ;  even  if  we  could. 
Who  with  us  thinks  this  man  should  die  ? 
Proclaim' t  at  once  by  saying  '  aye.'  ' ' 

11  Aye,"  came,  in  deep  and  solemn  sound, 
From  all  upon  that  camping  ground 
Excepting  two,  who  stood  aside — 
The  one  whose  case  was  being  tried — 
The  other  was  his  brother,  than 
Whom  never  lived  a  nobler  man  ; 
Who,  hearing  thus  his  friends  decide, 
Now  moved  with  firm  and  steady  stride 
Toward  the  centre  of  the  ring, 
And  there  his  head  uncovering, 
While  all  around  him  closely  pressed, 
He  thus  his  listening  friends  addressed  : 

"  Comrades,  I've  heard  the  reasons  why 

You'd  give  my  brother  up  to  die  ; 

Nor  can  I  say  you  are  unjust, 

For  though  his  brother,  still  I  must 

Admit  that  he  has  not  a  right 

To  e'en  expect  that  you  would  fight 

To  save  him  from  whatever  fate 


56  K  A  \V-\VAU-NITA  . 

At  hands  of  yonder  tribe  await 

The  doer  of  a  deed  so  dark  ; 

Well  might  it  vanquish  every  spark 

Of  friendly  feeling,  from  each  one 

Who  knows  such  damning  deed  was  done. 

But  he's  my  brother  ;  and  I  crave 

The  privilege  his  life  to  save. 

"  Our  mother's  spirit  weeps,  to-day, 
For  him  who  thus  has  gone  astray. 
His  life,  since  first  it  did  begin, 
Has  been  one  vile  unbroken  sin  ; 
And  should  he  die,  to-day,  I  know 
The  regions  of  despair  below 
Will  open  wide  their  gates  to  give 
His  soul  a  place.     O  !  let  him  live 
To  mend  his  ways,  and  by  God's  grace 
Prepare  himself  for  that  blessed  place 
Where  angels  dwell,  where  all  is  fair, 
And  where,  at  last,  unbroken  there, 
Our  household  band  will  join  to  sing 
The  praises  of  the  Heavenly  King. 
I  who  address  you,  now  and  here, 
Have  nothing  after  death  to  fear  ; 


K  A  \V  -  \V  A  T  -  Nr  I  T  A  .  57 

'Tis  for  a  life  these  people  cry  ; 
Then  let  me  for  my  brother  die." 

No  tears  were  in  the  eyes,  nor  trace 
Of  passion  marred  that  youthful  face  ; 
But  courage,  manly,  brave  and  true, 
Beamed  from  those  honest  eyes  of  blue  ; 
And  well,  full  well,  his  comrades  knew, 
lust  what  he  said  he  meant  to  do. 

The  leader  of  the  little  band 
Extended  to  the  youth  his  hand, 
Saying,  "  No,  my  boy,  it  may  not  be, 
Never  shall  you,  from  sinning  free, 
Be  sacrificed  for  such  as  he. " 

Then  to  the  other  one  he  said  : 

"  This  you  have  brought  on  your  own  head  : 

I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  pain 

This  gives  me  ;  the  attempt  were  vain, 

But  there  is  time  to  yet  prepare  ; 

Breathe  out  to  God  one  heart-felt  prayer, 

And  be  assured  that  never  yet 

A  contrite  heart  refusal  met. 

The  dying  thief  for  mercy  pled  ; 


58  K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  1  T  A  . 

'Remember  me,'  the  words  he  said  ; 

And  Christ,  of  all  the  Law  the  End, 

Our  first,  our  last,  our  only  friend, 

Bade  him  rejoice.     '  To-day'  said  He, 

'Thou'lt  be  in  Paradise  with  me.' 

Look,  then,  to  Christ,  for  through  His  blood 

Thejworst  may  hope  for  peace  with  God. 

Your  fate  we  may  not  now  control  ; 

May  God  have  mercy  on  your  soul." 

And  turning,  did  but  vainly  try 

To  hide  the  tear  that  dimmed  his  eye. 

Then,  one  by  one,  with  sorrowing  look,, 

And  kindly — while  their  voices  shook 

With  sorrow  such  as  few  can  tell — 

They  bade  th'  unhappy  man  farewell. 

And  now  the  Fearless  Eagle's  horn 
Awoke  the  echoes  of  the  morn, 
And  every  warrior  ready  stood 
To  mount  his  steed  and  shed  his  blood, 
If  such  must  be  ;  but,  while  they  stand, 
Each  with  a  deadly  spear  in  hand, 
The  chief  drew  off  a  squad  of  three, 
Instructing  them  to  go  and  see 


K.\  W- WA  U-N1T  A  .  59 

What  said  the  captain  of  the  train, 
And  then  return  to  him  again. 

They  rode  to  where  the  captain  sat — 
His  eyes  were  shaded  by  his  hat — 
But  at  their  coming  raised  his  head, 
And  answering  them,  "  go  back,"  he  said, 
"  And  tell  your  chief  to  come  and  take 
This  man  ;  who,  for  his  brother's  sake, 
I  fain  would  shield  ;  but  'tmay  not  be, 
I  would  his  face  I  ne'er  did  see." 

They  turned  ;  and  when  once  more  they  gained 
Their  chieftain's  side,  and  had  explained 
The  white  man's  words  ;  he  waived  his  hand, 
And  as  a  single  man  his  band 
Leaped  to  their  saddles  ;  and  he  gave 
His  tasseled  spear  a  signal  waive, 
And  Silver  Fox  marched  at  the  sign, 
To  meet  the  chief's  advancing  line. 

They  formed  a  line,  extending  round 
The  white  men  and  their  camping  ground, 
And  inward  pressed  until  so  near 
That  either  side  might  cast  a  spear 


6o  K  A  W  -  W  A  I"  -  X  I  I   A  . 

Beyond  the  centre  of  the  space  ; 
"  Halt,"  cried  the  chief;  and  face  to  face, 
The  white  men  meet,  turn  where  they  will, 
The  war-striped  face  of  warrior  still. 

The  Fearless  Eagle  now  advanced — 

His  mustang  tossed  his  head  and  pranced, 

Rearing  aloft,  and  onward,  till 

At  single  word,  he  stood  as  still 

As  stands  the  everlasting  hill. 

"White  men,"  'twas  thus  the  Eagle  spoke  ; 

"  His  word  no  Indian  ever  broke, 

And  now  you  have  my  word  that  none 

Shall  suffer  but  the  guilty  one  ; 

That,  though  you  are  my  prisoners,  yet 

My  promise  I  will  not  forget ; 

Show  me  the  murderer  of  my  wife  ; 

Yield  him  to  me,  for  with  his  life 

He  here  must  answer  for  his  crime — 

Here,  on  the  spot,  and  now  the  time." 

The  pale-faced  leader  with  his  hand, 
In  answer  to  the  chief's  command, 
Pointed  to  him,  who,  sorrowing  there, 
Seemed  crazed  by  terror  and  despair. 


K.A  \V-W  A  U- N  I  I  A  .  6  I 

"  Let  the  Black  Wolf  and   Panther  take 
And  bind  yon  pale  face  to  a  stake  ; 
The  Silver  Fox  will  search  with  care, 
For  arms  the  other  whites  may  bear — 
And  having  all  their  guns  secured 
That  we  of  peace  may  be  assured — 
Will  march  them  out  three  hundred  yards, 
And  over  them  will  station  guards. 
But  mind  you  all,  let  not  a  hand 
Against  a  member  of  their  band 
Be  raised  to  harm  them  ;   now,  I  say, 
Mark  well  my  orders,  and  obey." 

Forth,  then,  the  Wolf  and  Panther  came 
And  quickly  they  secured  their  game. 
The  Silver  Fox,  with  ready  hand, 
Obeyed  the  chieftain's  next  command  ; 
And  when,  at  last,  he  ceased  his  search, 
He  bade  the  white  men  'forward  march,' 
And  marched  them  out,  and  did,  in  brief, 
All  he  wa?  ordered  by  his  chief. 
Then  turned  towards  the  camping  ground  ; 
Where  now  his  friends  were  seated  'round 
In  solemn  Council  'round  the  blaze, 


02  K  A  W  -  \V  A  U  -  N  I  T  A  . 

As  chiefs  who  lived  in  olden  days 
Had  held  their  councils  oftentimes 
O'er  those  who  had  committed  crimes. 

The  Eagle  soon  the  Fox  descried, 
And  beckoned  him  approach  his  side. 

Their  council  o'er,  they  rise  and  stand 
Extending  each  to  each  a  hand. 
The  chieftain  bade  the  Wolf  be  sure, 
And  make  the  fastenings  all  secure. 
The  Wolf  approached  the  trembling  wretch 
The  stakes  are  set,  his  limbs  they  stretch, 
And  fastening  him  at  utmost  spread 
Rendered  him  helpless  as  if  dead. 
His  piteous  prayers  they  heeded  not — 
He  begged  in  mercy  to  be  shot — 
But  heeding  not  his  prayers  and  cries, 
Whetted  their  knives  before  his  eyes. 

Then,  cautiously,  they  did  begin 
T'remove  from  off  his  flesh  his  skin 
While  yet  alive  ;  and  told  him,  too, 
What  they  were  now  about  to  do. 


K  A  W  -  W  A  U  -  N  1  T  A  .  63 

He  had  expected  they  would  take 
And  scalp,  and  burn  him  at  the  stake  ; 
Had  dreaded  tortures  such  as  men 
Have  suffered  o'er  and  o'er  again, 
But  never  did  the  thought  arrive 
To  him  of  being  flayed  alive. 

Their  work  they  did  by  slow  degrees, 
With  caution,  and  infernal  ease, 
The  victim's  comrades  closed  their  ears 
Against  his  shrieks,  which  pierced  like  spears, 
'Till — when  an  hour's  time  had  run — 
The  horrid,  hellish  deed  was  done. 

They  loosed  his  feet,  they  loosed  his  hands, 

Obedient  to  the  chiefs  commands  ; 

And  rising  to  his  feet,  he  stood 

A  mass  of  quivering  flesh  and  blood  ; 

One  moment  only,  stood  he  there, 

But  in  that  moment  breathed  a  prayer 

As  plain  as  ever  mortal  spake, 

"  Have  mercy,  Lord,  for  Jesus'  sake," 

And  then,  his  pain  and  trouble  o'er, 

Sank  down  in  death  to  rise  no  more. 


Miscellaneous  Rhymes. 


M  Y    1)  A  R  L  I  N  G  . 


Soft  little  hands  has  my  darling  ; 

Her  brown  curls  are  wavy  and  long, 
And  sweet  as  the  note  of  the  wild  bird, 

Is  the  voice  of  my  darling  in  song. 

Her  eyes  are  as  black  as  the  midnight, 
And  as  deep  as  the  dark  rolling  sea  ; 

And  her  sweet  winning  smile  is  like  sunlight- 
'Tis  the  sunlight  of  Heaven  to  me. 

Hci  movements  are  graceful  and  easy  ; 

Her  step  light  as  that  of  the  fawn  ; 
And  cheerfully  rises  the  daisy 

Just  pressed  by  her  foot  on  the  lawn. 

-  her  !   O  1   Father  in  Heaven  ; 
Send  angels  to  guard  her  from  sin, 
And  lead  her  to  Heaven's  bright  portals, 
Where,  bid  her  in  peace  enter  in. 


66  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

THE    MUSTANG. 

Proudly  he  marshalled  his  fleet-footed  clan, 

Out  on  the  green  grassy  plain, 
Where  the  Antelope  bounded  in  freedom,  and  where 

The  hunter  pursues  in  vain. 

He  led  them  along  by  the  foot  of  the  hillr 
Where  the  grass  grew  fresh  and  green  ; 

In  his  train  came  many  a  Desert  Prince, 
And  many  a  Prairie  Queen. 

You  may  talk  of  your  thorough-breds,  if  you  will, 
Trained  for  the  course  and  the  ring  ; 

This  hero  of  mine  could  excel  them  all, 
For  he  was  a  thorough-bred  King. 

The  vaqueros  rode  forth  on  their  prancing  steeds, 

And  thought  to  surround  the  band  ; 
Each  rode  well  and  swung  aloft 

The  "riatta,"  with  well-nerved  hand. 

But  the  mustang  tossed  his  head  on  high, 

As  he  snuffed  the  tainted  air, 
And  around,  and  around  his  herd  did  he  fly, 

To  be  sure  that  he  left  none  there. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  6? 

Then  his  voice  was  heard  in  a  warning  neigh, 

And  away  they  flew  like  the  wind  ; 
Like  the  rushing  waves  of  a  storm-tossed  sea  ; 

But  the  King  remained  behind. 

When  the  lariats  hissed,  and  the  hunters  thought 

He  was  e'en  their  captive  now, 
His  courage  was  grand  as  ever  adorned 

A  monarch's  regal  brow. 

He  stood  on  the  open  prairie  there, 

'Till  the  herd  was  safe  from  the  foe, 
Then  his  tasseled  crest  he  shook  in  the  air, 

And  turned  himself  to  go. 

But  ere  he  fled  one  ringing  neigh, 

Back  on  his  foes  did  he  fling  ; 
As  if  he  would  say,   "  Ye  cannot  enslave 

The  free-born  Mustang  King." 

As  the  Eagle  cuts  the  azure  skies, 
And  vanishes  from  the  sight — 

Like  cloud-shadow  driven  across  the  plain- 
Such  was  the  mustang's  flight. 


68  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

FAME. 

I  mind  me  of  the  good  old  days,  when  I  was  but  a 

boy  ; 
When  all  the  world  was  bright  ahead,  and  the  future 

full  of  joy  ; 
When  care  was  far  away  from  me,  and  happy  were 

the  hours 
I  wandered  on  my  sunny  way,  amid  hope's  fragrant 

flowers. 
V  But  ah  !  the  flowers  I  gathered  then,   were  faded 

long  ago  ; 
And   the  hopes  which  made  the  future  bright,  are 

cold  as  mountain  snow. 
I  clearly  can  remember,   how   I  longed  for   man's 

estate — 
And   dreamed  of   honors  lightly  won,   which  yet 

should  make  me  great  ; 
I  dreamed  of  mighty  battles,  where   heroes  fought 

and  fell, 
And  my  dreams  were  far  too  numerous  and  lengthy 

here  to  tell  : 

But  still  I  was  a  dreamer,  and  even  now  each  dream 
Comes  back,  to-night,  with  music,  like  the  rippling 

of  a  stream. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  69 

Since  then  I've  climbed  the  mountain,  where  fiercest 
winds  do  blow, 

Where  the  flowers  lie  hidden  far  beneath  the  ever- 
lasting snow  ; 

I've  stood  since  then  upon  the  deck,  and  rode  the 
crested  wave, 

Where  our  good  ship  struggled  long  and  well  to  shun 
a.  watery  grave  ; 

Where  many  of  my  mess-mates,  whose  memories 
still  I  love, 

Went  down  to  dwell  with  mermaids  in  their  shining 

coral  grove. 

I've  seen  the  field  of  battle  where  my  comrades  fell 
around, 

Where  streams  of  blood  of  dying  men,  went  cours- 
ing o'er  the  ground  ; 

I've  stood  beside  a.  comrade  when  the  battle's  rage 
was  o'er, 

And  closed  in  death  those  eyes  whose  smiles  will 
meet  my  own  no  more — 

Ah  !  friends  of  mine,  believe  me,  'tis  but  an  idle 
name, 

What  men  so  oft  have  written  of,  and  what's  en- 
titled fame. 


70  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES, 

LINES. 

U'n'ffen  in  a  Ladv'  s  Album  at  a  Partv. 


May  time  still  move  as  lightly, 
May  prospects  look  as  brightly, 
And  peace  compress  as  tightly, 

The  scenes  wherein  we  move  ; 
May  we  ever  be  contented, 
And  never  be  prevented 
From  being  all  cemented 

In  the  happy  bonds  of  love. 

And  when  this  gay  world  shall  fail  us, 
And  our  friends  in  coffins  bale  us, 
And  the  green  earth  shall  inhale  us, 

And  our  bodies  sleep  for  aye  ; 
May  the  Heavenly  King  then  call  us, 
And  in  happiness  install  us, 
Where  no  evil  can  befall  us, 

Nor  our  friendship  pass  away. 

There  our  spirits  will  be  joyous  ; 
There  no  enemy  annoy  us  ; 
Nor  shall  jealousy  destroy  us, 
Xor  envy  mar  our  rest. 


M  I  S  C  E  1. 1.  A  X  E  ( >  U  S    R  H  Y  M  E  S  . 

There  Christ,  our  Elder  Brother, 
With  His  love  our  griefs  will  smother, 
And  a  love  for  one  another 
Will  spring  up  in  every  breast. 


FROM  SWEDISH  MELODIES. 


My  life  is  a  wave, 

Tossed  on  the  rough  sea  : 
As  light  as  the  wing 

Of  the  eagle  so  free  : 
Now  leaping  aloft, 

A  sun-gilded  wave  ; 
Now  lost  among  shadows 

As  deep  as  the  grave. 

Now  sinking  far  down 

From  sight  of  the  worldr 
'Neath  Fate's  bitter  frown 

I'm  cruelly  hurled  ; 
And  anon  from  the  depths 

Of  the  darkness  I  rise, 
Like  a  wave  do  I  dance 

In  the  light  of  the  skies. 


72  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

Yes,  life  is  a  wave 

On  Time's  raging  sea  ; 
The  creature  of  Fortune, 

Wherever  I  be  ; 
Now  borne  on  Hope's  crest  ; 

Now  to  Sorrow  a  slave  : 
Ah  !  well  may  my  life 

Be  compared  to  a  wave. 


SING     ME    A    SONG. 


Sing  me  a  song,  fair  lady, 

For  my  heart  is  heavy  with  woe  ; 
And  I  would  go  back,  in  fancy,  to-night, 

To  the  happy  long  ago. 

Sing  me  a  song,  fair  lady, 

That  tells  of  the  days  gone  by, 
When  the  future  was  bright  as  the  morning  light, 

And  my  heart  with  hope  beat  high. 

Sing  me  a  song,  fair  lady, 

The  song  that  you  love  to  sing  ; 
It  will  soothe  the  pain  in  my  aching  heart, 

Like  the  waft  of  an  angel's  wing. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  73 

T HE    SALOON. 


We  are  sitting  to-night  in  the  same  saloon, 

Where  many  have  sat  too  long  ; 
But  we  only  want  to  pass  an  hour 

In  social  drink  and  song. 
Many  are  the  hearts  that  are  sad  to-night, 

And  many  the  tearful  eyes; 
But  we'll  drink  our  drams  and  sing  our  songs, 

And  never  heed  their  sighs. 

We  know  that  we  left  dear  friends  at  home, 

And  promised  a  quick  return; 
And  our  mothers,  our  wives,  and  children  will  wait 

'Till  the  midnight  tapers  burn; 
But  we  will  be  merry  while  here  we  sit, 

And  drive  dull  care  away; 
And  we  won't  go  home  to  our  waiting  friends 

'Till  the  dawning  of  the  day. 

We  know  that  in  Holy  Writ  'tis  said, 

That  hard  is  the  sinner's  way; 
That  the  drunkard's  child  shall  want  for  bread, 

Is  what  the  Scriptures  say  : 


74  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYME'S. 

But  here  we  are  together,  to-night  ; 

Each  face  is  bright  and  fair  ; 
Then  fill  the  bowl  to  the  brim,  my  lads-, 

We'll  drive  away  dull  care. 

There  are  tears  in  that  bowl,  sad  tears  of  grief. 

And  bitter,  bitter  sighs  ; 
There  are  wrongs  endured  by  patient  hearts-, 

And  weary  watching  eyes. 
Then  leave  the  sparkling  bowl,  to-night, 

You  can  not  leave  too  soon — 
Give  joy  to  those  aching  hearts  at  home  ; 

Forsake  the  gay  Saloon. 


CAMPAIGN    SONG,   1872. 

Rally,  once  more,  'round  the  hero  of  Richmond",. 

Rally,  once  more,  in  the  cause  of  the  just ; 
But  leave  in  your  tents  each  musket  and  sabre, 

Long  may  they  lie  and  in  idleness  rust. 

Come  from  your  homes  on  the  Fifth  of  November,, 
Come  to  the  polls  with  your  ballots  in  hand  ; 

And,  comrades,  inscribe  on  each  ballot  the  name 
Of  the  hero  who  conquered  the  foes  of  our  land , 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  75 

Once,  when  our  nation  was  weeping  and  gory — 
Too  well  we  remember  each  terrible  day — 

He  marshalled  us  forth  for  the  Wilderness  battle, 
Where  our  enemies  met  us  in  hostile  array. 

O  !   the  sad  sight  which  on  every  side  met  us, 
A  comrade  here  lying,  and  racked  by  death-pain, 

And  there,  by  his  side,  lay  the  soldier  in  grey — 
Brave  boys,  they  died  friends  upon  that  bloody 
plain. 

But  when  the  fierce  raging  contest  was  ovef — 
When  brave  Bobbie  Lee  did  his  army  release — 

Our  big-hearted  Grant,  in  taking  the  hand 

Of  that  brave  old   Commander,    said,   "  Let  us 
have  peace." 


BREAKING    UP  OF  THE  LEGISLATURE. 

I  am  sure  it  would  please  you,  if  you  could  but  see 
One  half  of  the  tricks  that  are  here  being  played ; 

If  you  want   your  axe  ground,  you  must  out  with 

the  fee, 
For  the  axe  wont  be  ground  till  the  money  is  p  ii<l. 


76  M  ISC  ELL  AN  EOUS    RHYMES  . 

From  the  clerk  at  the  desk  to  the  humblest  page, 

One  principle  seizes  on  all  like  a  fit, 
To  whatever  suggestion,  whatever  your  age — 

The  answer  is  this  ;   "  Any  money  in  it  ?" 

Farewell  to  this  horrible  mass  of  corruption  ; 

This  buying  and  selling  for  silver  and  gold  : 
Where  men  are  not  men — but  poor  pitiful  creatures, 

Whose  meanness  and  worthlessness  cannot  be  told. 

Where  votes  can  be  bought  to  support  any  measure, 
No  matter  how  bare-faced  that  measure  may  be  ; 

Where  the  motto  of  most  of  our   much    honored 

members 
Is  :   "  I'll  tickle  you,  sir,  if  you'll  tickle  me." 

They  have  gathered  like  so  many  ravening  wolves, 
To  feast  on  some  innocent,  powerless  prey  ; 

And  the  Treasure  Box,  once  in  a  flourishing  state, 
Will  be  sadly  collapsed  when  they  all  go  away. 

The  Sergeant-at-Arms  had  a  peaceable  time 

So  long  as  the  Treasurer's  funds  could  hold  out  ; 

But  lately  the  House  on  the  Sergeant  came  down, 
And  really,  I  fear  they  will  put  him  to  rout. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  77 

Not  even  the  Chaplain,  that  meek  man  of  God, 
Could  refrain  from  the  snatching  he  sees  going  on; 

But  he,  also,  "went  after"  the  Sergeant-at- Arms 
For  "  his  package,"   he  got  it  ;   and  now  he  is 
gone. 

'Tis  pleasing  to  know,  that  amid  the  pollution, 
Some  hands  undefiled  have  come  out  of  the  fire 

Untarnished  and  pure  ;   we  may  press  with  emotion 
Those  hands  which  the  lobbyists  gold   could  not 
hire. 

May  the  angel  of  mercy  protect  the  good  people, 
As  homeward  the  members  in  idleness  stray  ; 

For   some    of  these   jockies    would   steal   a  church 

steeple, 
Without  ringing  the  bell  as  they  took  it  away. 


COME,  LET  ME   SING  YOU  A  SONG. 

Come  let  me  sing  you  a  song, 

You  shall  say  what  you  most  wish  to  hear  ; 
You  may  have  one  that's  short  or  that's  long, 

'Twill  be  worthv  a  smile  or  a  tear. 


78  M  1SCELLANEOUS    RHYMES, 

'Tis  not  very  otten  that  I 

Feel  equal  to  please  with  a  song, 
But  to-night  I  must  laugh,  or  else  cry, 

Though  I  know  that  extremes  are  quite  wrong. 

But  really  I  don't  want  to  cry, 

And  laughing  is  foolish  they  say ; 
So  to  sing  you  a  song  I  will  try. 

And  thus  drive  my  sorrows  away. 

Then  choose,  if  you  have  any  choice, 
And  say  what  you  most  wish  to  hear, 

And  though  I've  a  very  poor  voice. 
You'll  return  me  a  smile  or  a  tear. 


HOW  LONG  CAN  WE  KEEP  THE  BABY. 

How  long  can  we  keep  the  baby 

From  the  silence  and  the  gloom  ; 
From  the  deep  eternal  shadows 

That  cluster  'round  the  tomb  ? 
I  spake  those  words,  this  morning, 

As  in  death  our  darling  lay, 
For  I  knew  that  soon,  at  farthest, 

They  would  carry  our  boy  away. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES  .  79 

For  Death  had  ope'd  the  portals, 

With  an  unrelenting  hand, 
And  our  boy  had  gone  with  the  angels 

To  the  beautiful  Spirit  Land. 
And  the  little  form  now  sleeping, 

Will  soon  be  hidden  from  sight  ; 
But  our  baby  we  know  is  in  Heaven, 

An  angel  pure  and  bright. 

How  long  can  we  keep  the  baby  ? 

How  long  ?    Ah  !  none  can  tell 
But  He  whom  angels  worship, 

"  Who  doeth  all  things  well." 

God  make  us  pure  and  sinless, 

As  the  one  just  gone  before, 
That  in  Heaven  we  meet  our  baby, 

And  keep  him  forever  more. 


RESIGNING  CHARGE  OF  STOCKTON  JAIL. 

I  will  think  of  you,  boys,  in  the  days  of  the  future. 
No  matter  what  fortune  for  me  has  in  store  ; 

I'll  remember  you,  each  in  his  little  inclosure, 
Though  mountains  and  billows  betw'een  us  should 
roar. 


8o  M  I  S  C  E  L  L  A  N  E  O  U  S    R  H  Y  M  E  S  . 

I  will  think  in  the  morning,  when  rising  from  slum- 
ber, 
Of   the    mornings    I've   passed    by   the   door  of 

each  cell. 

I'll  recall  to  my  mind  the  particular  number 
Of  each,  which  will  long  in  my  memory  dwell. 

How  well  I'llremember  the  cheery  "good  morning," 
That  each  of  you  gave  me,  as  passing  along, 

You  went  for  a  moment  to  greet  the  glad  dawning — 
'Tis  like  music  to  me  of  a  favorite  song. 

It  may  be  thought  strange,  by  our  sanctified  neigh- 
bors, 

That  goodness  exists  in  a  prison,  at  all ; 
But  let  them  remember  the  source  of  our  being, 

That  God  who  is  Giver  and  Father  of  all. 

What  though  you  are  held  in  the  cell  of  a  felon, 
Shut  in  from  the  sun  and  his  glorious  smiles, 

'Tis  a  saying  exceedingly  pleasant  to  dwell  on, 
That  "all  are  not  bad  whom  the  public  reviles." 

But  all  have  "come  short  of  the  glory"  of  Heaven. 
We   have  sinned  against  God,  our  kind  Father 
above; 


MISC  ELLANE  O  US    RH  YM  ES.  8l 

Yet  all  may  return  and  be  fully  forgiven, 
And  bask  in  the  sunlight  of  Heavenly  love. 

When  I  leave  you,  another  will  take  my  position, 
A  stranger,  perhaps,  to  both  you  and  to  me  ; 

But  I  hope  that  he  will  not  abuse  his  commission, 
For  there's  nothing  so  mean  as  a  tyrant  can  be. 

And  now,  with  a  prayer  that  whatever  befall  us 
As  onward  through  life  we  continue  to  move, 

Our  Father  in  Heaven  at  last  will  install  us, 

Made  free  from  our  sins  in  the  "  Eden  of  Love." 


LONELY    AND    SAD. 

Lonely  and  sad,  as  a  pilgrim  I  wander — 

Far  from  the  scenes  of  my  childhood's  glad  days; 
Gloomily  now  o'er  the  past  I  may  ponder — 

And  join,  but  in  dreams,  with  my  fellows  in  plays. 
Far,  far  away,  where  the  sun's  early  dawning — 

Gladdens  the  songs  of  the  birds  in  the  tree, — 
Thou  land  where  the  daisy  entwines  with  the  sham- 
rock— 

( )  s;id  is  the  fortune  that  drives  me  from  thee. 


82  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

True,  I  find  rest  in  the  land  of  Columbia, 

'Neath  Freedom's  glad  banner,  the  Stripes  and 

the  Stars; 
Gladly  I  sprang  to  the  front  to  defend  her, 

When  rang  through  the  nation  the  bugle  of  Mars, 
Oh  !    the  dread  scenes  on  the  red  fields  of  battle, 

The  cries  of  the  wounded,  extorted  by  pain; 
Where  the  cannon's  deep  roar,  and  the  musket's  sharp 
rattle — 

Were  well-fitting  dirge  o'er  the  sleep  of  the  slain. 

Still,  in  the  midst  of  the  fierce  raging  struggle, 

When  death  was  around  me  on  every  side, 
Where   war-steeds   rushed    forth  at   the    sound    of 

the  bugle, 
To  fall  in  their  courage,  their  strength  and  their 

pride; 

E'en  then  did  I  think  of  my  own  native  Island, 
When  o'er  the  brave    foe  we    have    raised    our 

hurrah, — 
And  I've  said  in  my  heart,  "Would  to  God  'twere 

a  shout 
O'er  the  foes  and  oppressors  of  Erin-go-Bragh." 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  83 

POEM. 

Read   before  the  A.    O.    If.,    at  Stockton,  on 
Saint  Patrick's  Day,   1873. 

The  shade  of  sin  had  darkened  Earth's  fair  face— 
Had  robbed  her  of  the  beauties  once  her  own  : 

Man,  by  his  sin,  had  forfeited  his  place 

By  joys  surrounded  and  with  flowers  bestrewn. 

Lost,  lost  forever,  were  the  heavenly  joys, 
Which  at  his  waking,  burst  upon  his  sight; 

Bartered  away  for  Folly's  fleeting  toys, 
Bringing  upon  his  soul  Egyptian  night. 

For  years,  for  centuries,  he  lived  and  toiled, 
Growing  in  numbers  as  the  years  went  by  ; 

Sinking,  still  sinking,  since  by  sin  first  soiled, 
Bearing  his  pain  with  many  a  weary  sigh. 

No  longer  mindful  of  the  loving  kindness 

That  e'en  in  sin  watched  o'er  the  path  he  trod, 

Downward  pressed  he  in  his  headlong  blindness, 
His  life  one  damning  sin  against  his  God. 


84  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

Yet  God  remembered  man  with  many  mercies, 
Though    man    ignored    the   source  from  whence 
they  came ; 

Rich  blessings  sent,  instead  of  well-earned  curses, 
To  those  whose  lives  blasphemed  Jehovah's  name. 

God  sent  his  angels  out,  on. loving  missions, 

To  draw  men's  minds  above  the  shades  of  Time, 

To  that  bright  shore  where  discords  and   divisions 
Mar  not  the  joys  of  His  celestial  clime. 

Some  few  there  were  who  heard  the  gentle  teachings, 
That  came  in  visions  at  the  midnight  hour, 

And  bravely  told,  in  prophecies  and  preachings, 
The  truth  of  God,  His  wisdom  and  His  power. 

Yet  though  they  labored  through  both  sun  and  rain, 
To  tell  the  tidings  glad,  from  Heaven  sent — 

Though  hard  their  toil,  yet  meagre  was  the  train 
That  followed  in  the  path  by  which  they  went. 

The  world  seemed  lost  in  darkness  by  transgression; 

Bright  saints  for  fallen  man  shed  pearly  tears; 
God's  prophets  bowed  by  bitterest  oppression, 

When  lo  !    the  glorious  Morning  Star  appears. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  85 

The  Son  of  God,  from  out  the  court  of  glory, 
Came  down  to  save  the  world,  so  lost  in  crime— 

To  publish  to  mankind  the  gracious  story 
Of  joys  untrammeled  by  the  things  of  time. 

He  showed  the  people  all  their  great  transgressions; 

Taught  them  the  principles  of  truth  and  love; 
And  told  them  of  the  glorious  possessions 

Of  His  bright  kingdom  in  the  world  above. 

Many  who  heard  the  gentle  Savior's  preaching 
Rejoiced  that  they  their  sinfulness  had  seen; 

And  in  accordance  with  His  heavenly  teaching 
Followed  the  meek  and  lowly  Nazarene. 

And  when  the  Savior  went  again  to  Heaven 
He  sent  the  angel  Victor  back  to  earth; 

And  power  unto  the  messenger  was  given 

To  appear  'mong  men  as  one  of  worldly  birth. 

"  Go,"  said  the  Savior,  "and  proclaim  salvation 
To  all  the  sons  of  earth  who  hear  my  name  ; 

The  high,  the  low,  throughout  God's  whole  creation 

> 
The  humble  peasant  and  the  man  of  fame. 


86  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

"  And  should  you  find  among  Earth's  children,  any 
Whose  hearts  are  seeking  after  light  divine  ; 

Give  such  commission,  whether  few  or  many, 
To  spread  abroad  these  sacred  truths  of  mine.'' 

The  angel,  in  submission  to  the  order, 

Set  forth  from  scenes  of  heavenly  joy  and  light, 
And  nearing  in  his  flight  our  earthly  border, 

Xo\v  wrap't  in  silence  and  the  shades  of  night, 

He  came  o'er  where  a  youth  lay  sweetly  sleeping, 
Upon  whose  features  sat  a  peaceful  smile, 

And  downward  now,  the  messenger  came  sweeping, 
Attracted  by  this  mortal  free  from  guile. 

He  read  that  youthful  heart  laid  out  before  him 

As  plainly  as  we  read  a  printed  leaf, 
And  gently  whispered,  as  he  bended  o'er  him, 

Sweet  words  to  cheer  and  strengthen  his  belief. 

The  angel  gazed  in  silence  and  in  wonder, 

To  find  a  child  of  earth  so  bright  as  this; 

•'  There's  not,"  said  he,  "a  holier  angel  yonder 

At  God's  right  hand  in  everlasting  bliss." 


M  ISC  ELL  A  N  EO  US    RHYMES  .  87 

He  watched  with  growing  interest  the  emotions 
That  moved  the  spirit  of  the  sleeping  youth, 

And  witnessed  but  the  purest  of  devotions 
To  God,  the  everlasting  source  of  truth. 

Then,  in  a  voice  of  heavenly  music  breaking 
The  soul-devotion  of  the  sleeper  there, 

Who  started  up  in  wonderment,  when  waking, 
Beheld  the  presence  of  an  angel  fair. 

"Behold,"  said  Victor,  "God  hath  thee  appointed 
Unto  a  work  of  righteousness  and  love; 

Henceforth  look  up,  for  thou  shalt  be  anointed 
With  gifts  of  grace  and  power  from  above. 

"Arise,  depart  across  the  mighty  waters; 

There  men  of  God  shall  take  thee  by  the  hand; 
Erin's  brave  sons  and  Erin's  lovely  daughters, 

From  thee  shall  hear  and  answer  God's  command, 

"  Grace  be  upon  thee,  now  at  the  beginning  ; 

Spread  far  and  wide  the  Savior's  gracious  name  ; 
Bid  sinners  turn  to  God  and  cease  their  sinning — 

Go,  blessed  Saint  Patrick,  in  the  Savior's  name." 


58  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

And  then  the  angel,  in  a  cloud  of  glory, 
Vanished  before  the  vision  of  the  Saint. 

While  he  prepared  to  spread  the  wond'rous  story, 
And  lave  his  soul  of  every  earthly  taint. 

The  labors  of  St.  Patrick  are  recorded 

Upon  the  blazing  scroll  of  Christian  fame  ; 

Bravely  he  did  the  work  to  him  awarded, 
Honored  and  bless'd  forever  be  his  name. 

'Twas  he  who  wrapt  his  robe  of  holy  duty 
Around  the  worshiper  of  Pagan  fame  ; 

And  in  the  purity  of  Christian  beauty, 
Submitted  robe  and  wearer  to  the  flame. 

The  Pagan  worshiper  was  burned  to  ashes, 
But  all  unharmed  the  garment  stood  the  test  ; 

While  chieftains  rend  their  beards  and  twist  their 

sashes, 
But  cannot  harm  the  Saint  whom  God  had  blest. 

Then  in  the  self-same  flame  to  make  fair  trial, 
And  show  the  power  of  God  to  those  around, 

And  give  them  proof  admitting  no  denial, 
He  took  a  Pagan  garb  and  with  it  bound 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  89 

One  of  his  followers,  a  faithful  servant 

Of  the  bless' d  Savior,  who  for  all  had  died, 

And  placed  him,  with  a  blessing  deep  and  fervent, 
Amid  the  roaring  of  the  fiery  tide. 

When  lo  !  the  flames  in  anger  rushing  'round  him, 
Made  no  impression  on  the  Christian's  form  : 

Quickly  devoured  the  garment  that  had  bound  him, 
And  died  away  as  dies  a  summer  storm. 

'Twas  he  who  first  in  ancient  Tara's  Hall, 

Proclaimed  the  truth  of  God  to  one  and  all  ; 
He  traversed  every  mountain,  plain  and  glen 

Of  Ireland,  preaching  to  his  fellow  men  ; 
Sifting  the  precious  gold  from  worthless  dross, 

And  teaching  the  holy  doctrine  of  the  cross. 
Bless'd  be  his  name,  commissioned  from  above 

To  bring  glad  tidings  of  a  Father's  love  ; 
Where  e'er  we  tarry  or  where  e'er  we  stray, 

Still  let  us  honor  good  St.  Patrick's  Day. 


9o  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

TO  THE  MEMORY  OF  CAPT.   M.  B.  PIERCE. 

[Capt.  M.  B.  Pierce  was  a  soldier  during  the  rebellion.  He  was  braw 
as  a  lion,  and  a  truer  man  never  mounted  a  horse  than  he  proved 
himself  to  be.  Pierce  was  Aid-de  Camp  to  Gen.  McPherson  at  the  time 
of  that  distinguished  commanders  death.  I  learn  with  deep  regretr 
that  since  the  War  he  had  fallen  into  a  life  of  dissipation,  and  finally 
committed  suicide  by  shooting  himself  in  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  on  the  25th 
of  December,  1871.] 

Speak  of  him  kindly,  now  that  he's  gone; 
Sweetly  he's  sleeping — let  him  sleep  on; 
Breathe  not  a  harsh  word,  over  his  clay, 
Ye  who  would  censure  do  better — you  may. 

(  How  can  we  know  what  his  trials  have  been  ? 
And,  knowing  not  these,  how  judge  of  his  sin  ? 
Each  has  his  sorrows  and  trials  to  bear; 
Every  heart  hath  its  own  weight  of  care. 

Bravely  he  fought  where  his  leader  was  slain, 
Where  many  a  brave  heart  lay  cold  on  the  plain; 
Coward  he  was  not;  accursed  be  the  breath 
That  says  it  was  cowardice  led  him  to  death. 

Weary  of  life,  he  now  sleeps  in  the  grave; 
Soldiers,  a  tribute  is  due  to  the  brave; 
Though  we  beheld  not  his  funeral  bier 
We'll  drop  for  the  soldier,  a  soldierly  tear. 


M  ISCELLANEOUS   RHYMES,  qi 

T  O     M  Y    WIFE. 

My  own  Canary,  can  you  not  remember 
The  night  when  first  we  met,  so  long  ago  ; 

When  the  winter  winds  abroad  were  flying, 
And  the  ground  was  covered  o'er  with  snow  ? 

Your  heart  was  happy  then,  my  own  Canary, 
For  grief  had  never  entered  it,  I  ween  ; 

And  all  was  bright  and  beauteous  in  the  future, 
As  glowing  landscape  in  the  sunset's  sheen. 

And  can  you  not  remember,  my  own  dearie — 

But  how  could  you  forget  that  hour  divine 
When  first  our  vows  of  constancy  were  spoken — 
The  night  you  promised,  darling,  to  be  mine  ? 

Long  years  have  passed  since  then,  my  own  Canary, 
And  winter  winds  have  come  and  gone  away, 

But  they  have  left  their  mark  as  they  were  passing, 
Among  these  locks  of  mine  now  turning  grey. 

But  as  the  years  went  by,  my  own  Canary, 

They  brought  us  many  and  many  an  hour  of  bliss  ; 

Together  we  have  watched  our  baby's  slumbers, 
And  waited  for  the  baby's  wak'ning  kiss. 


92  .MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

Yes,  I  look  back,  to-night,  my  own  Canary, 
Along  the  weary  path  my  feet  have  trod, 

And  for  the  blessing  of  your  love,  my  dearie, 
My  soul  goes  out  in  gratitude  to  God. 


THOUGHTS  OF   HOME. 

I  wonder  if  the  sun  shines  just  as  brightly, 

To-day,  among  the  green  and  lovely  hills; 
I  wonder  if  the  zephyrs  move  as  lightly, 

The  foliage  drooping  o'er  the  purling  rills, 
As  when,  long  years  ago,  I  freely  wandered 

Along  the  path  known  but  to  boyhood's  years; 
And  gathered  flowers  which  were  long  since  squan- 
dered, 

Their  colors  washed  away  by  floods  of  tears. 

Full  well  I  knew  where  grew  the  sweetest  flowers, 

Where  deepest  shades  at  midday  I  might  find; 
Gone,  gone,  alas  !     for  ever  are  those  hours, 

Naught  but  the  memory  of  them  left  behind : 
The  lark  that  carolled  joyously  at  coming 

Of  the  glad  morning  in  the  Eastern  skies: 
The  busy  bee,  industriously  humming, 

From  morning's  dawn  till  evening's  latest  sighs. 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  93 

Still  sings  the  lark  her  song  so  sweetly  thrilling, 

As  when  I  heard  her  voice  long  years  ago; 
Still  toils  the  busy  bee  with  labor  filling 

The  moments  as  they  come  and  as  they  go; 
And  even  now,  in  midst  of  midnight  slumbers, 

Those  happy  childhood  scenes  upon  me  smile; 
And,  in  my  dreams,  I  strike  the  free  wild  numbers 

Which  echo  only  from  my  native  Isle. 


THE   BLESSED  OULD  SOD. 

O  !  come  all  my  jolly  countrymen, 

And  join  me  in  a  song  ; 
And  we  all  will  be  merry, 

As  the  moments  pass  along. 
We  will  sing  to  "  Ould  Ireland," 

The  land  of  our  birth, 
The  land  of  true  patriots, 

True  poets,  and  true  worth. 
For  we  think  of  "  Ould  Ireland" 

Wherever  we  may  roam  ; 
'Tis  the  land  of  our  Fathers, 

'Tis  our  hearts'  dearest  home. 


94  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

It  was  there  in  that  happy  land 

We  opened  first  our  eyes, 
And  beheld  the  blessed  light 

Of  God's  glorious  skies  ; 
There  our  fond  mothers  taught  us 

To  pray  to  our  God, 
And  we  played  with  our  fellows 

On  the  "  blessed  ould  sod." 
O  !   Ireland,  we  love  thee, 

With  hearts  fond  and  true  ; 
Thy  name  to  thy  children 

Is  forever  fresh  and  new. 

We  have  fought  for  America, 

The  land  of  the  Free, 
But  our  hearts'  best  affections  are, 

Ould  Ireland,  for  thee. 
We  have  wandered  far  away, 

Far  away  from  our  home, 
And  as  pilgrims  and  strangers 

Here  in  exile  do  we  roam  ; 
But  the  time  is  shortly  coming. 

And  as  surely  as  can  be, 
When  Ould  Ireland  forever, 

And  forever,  will  be  free. 


51  IS  CELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  95 

COME  JOIN  ME  IN  A  CHORUS. 


There  is  nothing  in  this  world,  boys, 

That  makes  us  feel  so  well 
As  lifting  up  our  voices, 

Our  country's  praise  to  tell  ; 
For  there  is  no  other  land,  my  lads, 

Like  this  in  which  we  dwell. 
Then  join  me,  my  comrades,  in  a  chorus. 

CHORUS. 

Hurrah,  hurrah,  for  the  land  we  love  so  well  ; 
Hurrah   for   the  Flag  under  which  we  safely 

dwell  ; 

Hurrah  for  every  soldier  who  fighting  for  it  fell; 
Long  may  the  Starry  Flag  waive  o'er  us. 

We  read  of  gallant  soldiers,  lads, 

Who  many  years  ago, 
Went  forth  in  line  of  battle 

To  meet  a  haughty  foe  ; 
Their  courage  we  can  not  forget, 

No  matter  where  we  go. 
Then  join  me,  my  comrades,  in  a  chorus. 

CHORUS— Hurrah,  etc.,  etc. 


96  MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES. 

O,  the  Englishmen  have  often  tried 

To  pull  our  colors  down, 
And  place  our  glorious  nation 

Beneath  their  hated  crown  ; 
But  every  time  they  "  tried  it  on," 

We've  "  cooked  their  goose  "  up  brown, 
Then  join  me,  my  comrades,  in  a  chorus. 

CHORUS — Hurrah,  etc.,  etc. 


We  never  can  forget,  my  lads, 

The  British  and  their  tricks  ; 
And  proudly  may  we  tender  them 

The  days  of  Seventy-Six  ; 
For  the  world  knows  that  Washington 

And  all  his  boys  were  bricks. 
Then  join  me,  my  comrades,  in  a  chorus. 

CHORUS — Hurrah,  etc.,  etc. 


Then  let  us  still  respect,  my  lads, 
The  Banner  of  our  home; 

And  should  a  foe  assail  it, 
In  days  that  are  to  come, 


MISCELLANEOUS    RHYMES.  97 

We'll  rally  round  our  standard 
At  the  beating  of  the  drum; 
Then  join  me,  my  comrades,  in  a  chorus. 

CHORUS — Hurrah,  etc.,  etc. 


COME  LISTEN  MY  BOYS. 

Come  listen,  my  boys,  and  I'll  sing  you  a  ditty, 

And  perhaps  it  will  give  you  occasion  to  smile; 
And    though  you'll  hear  nothing   that's  wonderful 

witty, 
There's  one  thing  I'll  promise,  you'll  hear  nothing 

vile; 
I  have  visited  all  parts   of  this  mighty  nation, 

Have  traveled  in  England,  in  Scotland  and  a' 
And     I  claim  for  my  birth  place  the  land    of  St. 

Patrick, 
That  lovely  green  Island,  old  Erin-go-Bragh. 

There  is  many  a  man  whom  we  meet  as  we  journey, 
Whose  energies  all  are  directed  to  gain; 

Who  cannot  afford,  for  his  own  recreation, 
One  moment  from  labor  and  toil  to  abstain: 


p8  MISCELLAN  EOUS    RHYMES  . 

But  the  God  who  created  us  never  intended 

That  we  should  pervert  the  good  works  of  His. 

hand; 

He  has  given  us  hearts  full  of  genial  emotions, 
And    "Love  one  another" — ye  know  the  com- 
mand. 

You  may  show  me  a  man  who  forever  is  striving, 

And  never  one  moment  to  pleasure  affords; 
And   I'll  show  you  a  man  who  will  never  be  happy, 

Though    thousands   and    thousands  of  dollars  he 

hoards: 

He  may  work,    he  may  toil,  at  his  day-book  and 
ledger, 

And  money  may  come  to  him  never  so  fast : 
His  heart  will  contract  to  a  pitiful  cinder, 

He'll  die  and  go  home  to  the  devil  at  last. 


M  \  S  C  K  I-  I-  A  X  K  ()  U  S    K  11  Y  M  F.S  .  99 


TO     HARRY    COURTAINE. 

Dear  Harry,  I  clearly  remember  the  day 

When  first  I  met  you  ; 
I3ut  the  time  may  never  o'ertake  me,  I  pray, 

When  I  shall  forget  you. 

We  meet  them — the  weary  and  broken  in  heart — 

Where  ever  we  move  ; 
Driven  by  Fortune  forever  apart 

From  all  that  they  love. 

As  they  journey  along  the  rough  ways  of  the  world — 

Where  e'er  we  may  meet  them — 
When  in  tempests  of  sorrow  they're  cruelly  hurled, 

'Tis  a  mercy  to  greet  them. 

God  bless  us,  and  may  we  our  duty  perform, 

Each  to  the  other, 
And  shield,  when  we  can,  from  the  merciless  storm 

A  sister  or  brother. 


C  0  N  T  E  N  T  S  . 


Kaw-Wau-Nita, 9 

My  Darling, 65 

The  Mustang, 66 

Fame, 68 

Lines  written  in  a  Lady's  Album, 70 

From  Sweedish  Melodies,  (Translation), 71 

Sing  me  a  Song, 72 

The  Saloon, 73 

Campaign  Song,  1872, 74 

Breaking  up  of  the  Legislature, 75 

Come,  let  me  sing  you  a  Song, 77 

How  long  can  we  keep  the  Baby, 78 

On  resigning  charge  of  the  Stockton  Jail, 79 

Lonely  and  sad, 81 

Poem,  for  St.  Patrick's  Day,  1873, 83 

To  the  memory  of  Capt.  M.  B.  Pierce, 90 

To  my  Wife, 91 

Thoughts  of  Home, 92 

The  Blessed  Ould  Sod, 93 

Come,  join  me  in  a  Chorus, 95 

Come  listen,  my  Boys, 97 

To  Harry  Courtaine, 99 


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